


Meet me at the bar

by shadova



Category: Mass Effect Trilogy
Genre: Angst, Character Death, Drama & Romance, Emotional Hurt, Eventual Smut, Fluff, Gore, Multi, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-06
Updated: 2019-03-14
Packaged: 2019-09-12 21:42:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 20
Words: 26,222
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16879725
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shadova/pseuds/shadova
Summary: After Commander Gabrielle Shepard managed to put an end to the Reapers, there begins her long journey to try and make it back to the Normandy and its crew. She meets several new people along the way, some enemies, some new close friends, and an entire new antagonist that promises nothing but misery. Will Gabrielle reunite with her crew, and better yet the Turian she fell in love with? Or will she perish before she even gets close?





	1. Chapter 1

Rubble, smoke, death. The sounds of victory bellowed across the land, shaking every boulder and blade of grass as it passed. A few tremors disrupted the terrain, one after another as reaper after reaper collapsed, notifying the survivors that the war—the fear—was now at an end. The only problem was the shouts from the men and women who risked their lives participating in this stupid war started to gradually grow quieter.  
The flash of red that shot out toward the closest Mass Relay to create a domino effect still burned in the back of a mind that shouldn't exist; a permanent memory tucked within a brain that shouldn't be functioning. And in that same mind grew a piercing throb at every little noise, movement and light. The air was soaked with dirt and misery with a hint of a new, care-free life.

When the crucible erupted into a soul-piercing red light, everything in its path was destroyed, thrown or obliterated from sight. Pillars of structures crumbled from the sheer force of it, littering what was left of the ground with piles and chunks of debris mostly made of broken stone. And tucked between the metal that had originally branched off into three parts to decide the fate of the reapers and a pile of rubble was a life form; beaten, bruised and bloodied. The very top of the pile cleaved apart as the woman's chest inflated, the lungs beneath dragging in whatever oxygen floated around. Another breath had the human wheezing, coughing, almost vomiting and panting. Raven hair, damp and plastered to the metal beneath and her forehead by blood and sweat, poked out from the debris before a hand darted to her side to nurse the pain that splintered the moment movement was attempted.  
Abandoned in the middle of a wasteland with nothing but the slowly returning memories to act as a strong sense of motivation, a well-known, respected and feared woman clawed at the rubble covering her body, searching for some kind of leverage to hoist a limp body from the wreckage... A body that should have been obliterated by the blast.

A few distorted grunts were made through a badly parched throat, the vibrations acting as miniature razor blades slicing the sensitive tissue. With a tongue that felt foreign, the woman croaked out the word 'Garrus' without knowing the true meaning behind it.  
As though the name had been a trigger, a familiar face popped into mind, drawing an unknown moisture to her eyes, a quiver to dry, cracked lips.  
Bloodied fingers wrapped around a sturdy chunk of cracked stone, and muscles flared in a desperate attempt to haul the broken woman upwards—and not a moment too soon, the soldier was moving, invisible feet getting into position beneath the rubble to prepare for becoming a main support beam. With a few internal words to act as a sole inspiration, she hauled herself up, a hand instantly shooting out to the slab of metal behind her to help her stay upright and balanced.

Dirt fell away from the damaged, barely-holding-together N7 armor, forming a miniature pile at her feet before it sunk into the cracks painting the stone. Darkened brows drew together to crinkle the skin between them as tired eyelids fell shut, attempting to regather the lost memories.  
A thin male belonging to another species occupied her mind first - and lingered. Again, tears stung the back of her eyes, but a few seconds later, the past flashed before her in chunky, horrible sections.

Commander Shepard? Garrus Vakarian.  
Commander... I wanted to thank you.  
Your hair looks good, and your waist is... Very supportive.  
I just want something to go right just once... Just...  
It'd be an awfully empty galaxy without you.  
If this thing goes sideways and we both end up there... Meet me at the bar.  
Shepard, I... Love you, too.

Garrus Vakarian... The more times she said the name, the more familiar it sounded. The memories came flooding back—of Thane, Kaidan, Miranda... Of Garrus and their first night together, the laughs, the tears and countless nights spent worrying about the chances of survival. The Normandy's crew had already lost their Commander once, there was no way it was going to happen again—not for a while.  
So, with a heavy heart and a motivated mindset, Commander Gabrielle Shepard forced her legs to work and stumbled down the mountain of ash, rock and metal to find a way back to her companions and fall into the arms of a certain turian.

🔄

Everything was a mess. The crew were frantic; Joker was ignoring everyone, Kaidan, Liara and Tali refused to make an appearance for the past forty-eight hours—Alenko hadn't been eating, either, and countless of items were heard shattering within Liara's chambers. James was busy swearing at the controls where Cortez had been previously stationed, Wrex and Grunt were aboard and tearing each other apart. Both of them had begged a stoic Joker to turn around and go back for Shepard, considering the bulk-headed duo had convinced themselves the Commander was still alive.  
The turian companion, however, managed to seal the doors to the crew's deck and disable the elevator so the four-raced companions could grieve in peace. Kaidan was in the starboard, Tali cradled herself on the tiled floor of the kitchen, Liara was still breaking objects in her room, and Garrus... Staring wide-eyed at the railing both hands gripped onto. Garrus locked himself in the main battery room, refusing treatment from Doctor Chakwas when he boarded from the battlefield. Even when the Normandy departed from the war, Garrus pounced to the nearest window with Kaidan and they both kept their eyes on the Commander, until...

⏮A creamy hand pressed against the glass, fingers splayed along the surface as a shaky breath fogged a part of the window. Kaidan had the same idea, it seemed, and joined Garrus in watching Shepard as they took flight.  
Three fingers gripped the windowsill as a pair of blue eyes pinned themselves to the reapers that had recently landed. Its metallic forehead opened, revealing a large, red circle that started to flare once life was spotted. A scarred, plated mouth opened as though the following words could reach the woman who raced to the beam; "Shepard, move! Please!"

The human at his side started to tense, the hand that braced against the glass now curling into a tight fist, rough and bloodied facial features scrunching into a look of desperation, a murderous haze coating severely focused amber hues. A muscle feathered in Kaidan's jaw, the rest of his body taut like a bowstring ready to fire. "Come on, Shepard..." The male muttered.  
A Mako flipped—just like before when it nearly crushed the pair—and barely missed Gabrielle, but as she struggled to her feet, a blazing red beam cut through dirt and stone and vehicle, cleaving a direct path to...—

A breath hitched in the turian's throat as he screamed her name and flung himself at the window, but two masculine hands secured his arms and forced the wailing man away from the scene, and the last thing he saw was Shepard crossing both arms over her face as though it would stop the reaper's beam from obliterating her instantly.⏭

Garrus had screamed for hours whilst Kaidan prevented him from forcing the airlock open and throw himself out of it to collect what was left of the woman who made life worth living—made every bad decision worth surviving.  
But now, standing alone in the main battery room, Garrus tried to think of reasons why he should continue living. Shepard was... Gone. But it was evident the reaper hadn't finished the Commander off.  
A similar red light darted out into open space and latched onto the Sol system's Mass Relay not long after the retreating Normandy managed to leave Earth's orbit, destroying the Relay by overpowering it. A matching shockwave was next that caught the tail end of the ship, but it was unable to disrupt or damage the engines. The reapers had... Vanished. And EDI... She collapsed without warning, the light fading from behind the disappearing visor. Joker hadn't been the same afterwards.

But someone was behind the sudden destruction of all synthetics and Mass Relays... And only one individual could have accomplished that.  
If the reaper hadn't wiped Shepard out, then the crucible definitely did, but... Gabrielle had done it—she saved the galaxy again until her last breath, this time sacrificing herself for the benefit of everyone else.

"Always the selfless martyr, huh, Shepard?" Garrus murmured to no one in particular, both hands gripping the railing harder.  
Liara's object and furniture massacre came to an abrupt end, followed by an ear-piercing silence—even the small noises Tali had been making quietened. The silence was disrupted shortly after by the sound of a door shifting open, a few echoing footsteps keeping the quiet at bay.

Before long, a rhythmic knock sounded at the sealed door, causing the turian to jolt and knock both armored knees against the lower rails. The movement stretched each and every wound, a new batch of blood pooling as a result of the man's stupidity. When Garrus boarded the Normandy and left Shepard to fend for herself, Doctor Chakwas had offered to mend their injuries, but the men were too focused on their Commander—his human lover.  
Garrus sucked in a breath to try and ease the pain shooting through every vein in his body. "Liara?"  
"Garrus... May I join you?" Came the strained voice of the asari.  
It took longer than needed, and his hesitation lasted to the point a response wasn't expected, but he pivoted and worked on trying to unlock the door with trembling fingers and a muddled train of thought.

The door gave way after a few moments, revealing both extremely tired, tear-drained aliens who'd endured and seen far too much to last several lifetimes. They stood there, staring at each other with an overwhelmed look coating their bodies, neither making a move to say or do anything to the other.  
Liara was the one who broke first and closed the gap between them with a few easy steps before enveloping him with a warm embrace.  
The gesture took him by surprise, sapphire eyes flicking from object to object in the mess hall as a confused mind tried to register what was going on. Hesitantly, armored arms wrapped around Liara's slender waist, the hug gradually growing tighter—a sign they both needed this.

They held each other for what seemed like an eternity before Garrus pulled away and put a respectable distance between them, a sigh shooting through aching nostrils. "I thought you would have stayed in there and destroyed everything until it wasn't fixable," Garrus stated.  
Oceanic hues shamelessly fell to the floor. "I was close to moving onto the crew's quarters. I apologise if it disturbed you and your work."  
A brief chuckle slipped through his mandibles. "I... Haven't done anything, really... Just coming up with ideas on how to survive the next few years."  
"How are you feeling? I can only imagine the amount of pain you are in... I know mine does not compare to yours," Liara asked quietly.

The turian faced the railings and braced both forearms along it. "I'm getting there," he said. "Look, Liara, if you've come here to offer your support... It's appreciated, but I don't need it."  
The asari advanced a step. "I figured we both needed it. We all lost Shepard, and we all deal with our loss and grief in different ways—friends help cope with the emotions," Liara firmly stated before lowering her flaming gaze to the floor once more. "There... Is another reason why I am here."  
Garrus faced the vague blue beauty. "Hmm?"  
A slender hand slipped into a misshaped pocket, and when it pulled away, a letter was tucked in the middle of a shaking hand. "This was written by her if she..." An uncomfortable pause was given. "It is yours. I was instructed to deliver it to you if anything happened to her."  
Small, exhausted eyes warily pinned the folded letter with a curious stare and watched as Liara extended her arm so it was within reach.  
Gingerly, he retrieved the paper and unfolded it, his heart thumping anxiously against an aching ribcage. Slowly, the turian scanned over the words, almost vomiting from the sight of familiar, beautiful handwriting belonging to a woman who no longer existed... All due to a senseless war and almost-indestructible foes that threatened all life in the universe. If only they had been stronger, or better prepared, then maybe the woman he loved would be standing here, assuring the man that everything was going to be okay, that they would continue to live a long and fulfilling life together.

'Vakarian —

If you're receiving this, I've gone again, this time for good. You and I both saw this coming. I'm sorry.

This isn't Alliance protocol, but if I'm dead, no one can talk me down.  
The Normandy is yours. Congratulations, Commander Vakarian. There isn't anyone else with the command experience and there isn't anyone else the crew—nor I—respect more.

Keep them together, Garrus. They'll look to you.

— Shepard.'

Dead silence. A few droplets of unknown moisture fell onto the paper, staining it, as sapphire hues locked onto the sudden switch of roles. "Shepard..." Garrus whispered, fearing anything louder would have broken him.  
His eyes lifted from the letter and spotted the woman responsible for the delivery, who simply smiled weakly and rose her arm.  
Liara saluted the baffled turian. "Commander."  
Tears cascaded down scarred cheeks, cleaving a path through leftover dirt and dried blood from the battle. And ever so slowly, Commander Garrus Vakarian elevated his right arm and returned the salute, the letter scrunched in his free hand.


	2. Chapter 2

Prowling the empty remains of the war, a wounded soldier scanned the surroundings for any sign of life - better yet a ship, shuttle or working transmitter. Burned out Mako vehicles, Alliance shuttles and chunks from the fleets were scattered, some containing bodies, the others abandoned. At least there were extra thermal clips laying around.  
Every muscle and bone and nerve ached with every squat, twist and turn - even breathing had become difficult to maintain. Her lungs rattled with every inhale, some even triggering a chain of coughs and deadly wheezes.  
Medi-gel was welcome to appear any moment now, but the possibility of finding even one satchel of the stuff was highly unlikely, which was both terrifying and comforting at the same time, knowing that a reuniting confrontational meeting with Garrus was out of the question, but it would be over soon enough.

The previously acquired wounds were still leaking, making every movement an... Exciting vertigo experience, but she needed to keep searching if she had even a small chance of seeing him again. So, Shepard held onto consciousness and pushed through the burnt and destroyed land, hoping to God that Garrus would stay strong long enough for them to embrace again and see to building that life together.  
Retirement was always an option, and Gabrielle wanted to see what a turian-human baby looked like. It may turn out to be impossible, but that wouldn't stop either of them from trying.

Gabrielle limped into the fossil of an Alliance shuttle, a hand desperately trying to keep the blood inside of her body whilst sapphire orbs searched for any type of machine, medical pack - anything - until the corner of a device poking out from a pile of ash caught her attention. Regrettably, Shepard sprung toward it, immediately collapsing to her knees as bloodied hands swiped away the coverage until the device was revealed; a radio transmitter, humming an electrical buzz. Shepard wasted no time in snatching the box and allowing trembling fingers to whiz over the controls.

Static crackled in her ears, a few distorted beeps and sirens interrupting the crackly noises, but she kept turning the dial, no matter how loud it got. Within a few moments, a voice spoke into the radio. "Hel...o? Who's... The other side? Is any... Over there? Can... Hear me?"  
Gabrielle fumbled for the response button. "Hi, yes! This is Commander Shepard, I'm stuck on the battlefi--"  
"Hello? Is anyone there?" The male cut in.  
Damn it... There was something wrong with the radio, connection, or the line.

Another soldier's voice sounded over the transmitter. "Did you find so--thing?" A female.  
"It must ha.....lfucntioned. Stup....rdware."  
Shepard was thrown into a panic. "No, please, don't! I'm right here, I'm right--"  
Static. The line dropped. She was alone in the middle of nowhere. Gabrielle sat back on the bumpy terrain, the device slumping to the ground as it was of no use any longer.  
But, as sorrowful eyes drifted to the ground, a heavy object was knocked over just outside of the shuttle, followed by a string of angry curses. They sounded... Feminine.  
A flicker of hope, a present from the gods above. Without wanting to waste the gift, the N7 soldier forced herself up and waddled toward the exit, a soaked, dirt-covered hand cradling the wound along her abdomen.  
A miniature dust cloud greeted her upon emerging from the shuttle, and Shepard had to fiercely wave the dirty fog away to see what happened.  
When most of it cleared, a faint outline poked through - an outline of a squatting figure with its head buried in its hands.

Shepard took a wary step. "Who's there?"  
The figure jolted, it's head flinging up at unnatural speed to look at the resigned Commander. "Oh, shit, man. I didn't know anyone was here, yeah?" The woman spoke, raising into a standing position. "Who are you supposed to be?"  
Gabrielle blinked. "I'm Comman-- I'm Shepard from the Alliance Navy. Who the hell are you? Where did you come from?"  
Both of the female's hands shot up as if to gesture for the soldier to stop. "Whoa, I can only take so many questions at once. I'm still recovering from two years worth of drugs."  
Silence.

If this unknown, seemingly human woman was a drug addict, why was she on the ruin site of the reapers? None of this made any sense and caused a darkened brow to rise significantly higher than the other. "Right."  
The stranger took a couple of steps forward, deep crimson hair now visible through what was left of the cloud. "It's confusing though, right? Like, I'm not made for war or nothing, but dead people can't send me away if I try to pinch their medi-gel."  
"How many do you have?" Shepard blurted.  
The response wasn't immediate, but it was a relief when it did come. "Six, I think, although my dog friend bit through some and died a few hours ago. Sorry little bastard, he was. Why? Do you want some, too?"  
Shepard gazed down at the rest of her body, at the armor that crumbled away with each large movement. "You could say that, yes."

A young woman, no older than twenty-one, stepped out from the smokescreen, dressed in a stained tank top and ripped cargo pants. Her upper right arm sported a bandage messily tied with a little blood stain beneath the knot.  
Dirt smeared across her cheeks, sweat gathered along her neck and forehead, implying that she had been here for a while now. With violet eyes venturing down the rest of Shepard's body, she gaped at the sight of here, unable to believe what she was seeing. "Who fucked you up the ass and only left you with a ten dollar bill?"  
Sapphire hues rolled dramatically. "Does it matter?" A calculated pause. "Don't answer that. Look, are you going to help me or not?"  
The red-headed beauty pondered for a moment. "Maybe. What's in it for me?"  
Was that a serious question or was this woman just irritatingly pulling the soldiers leg? "I don't have much to offer now, but I need it."  
Violet hues lowered to Shepard's neck. "I want to wear that thing around your throat."  
A free hand traveled to the mentioned spot, raw fingers wrapping around the dogtags that held sentimental value to her. "I'm sorry... But no. If you help me, though, I can let you onto my ship - once we find it, of course."

The stranger glared at her through squinted eyes - a look of judgement and suspicion. "I've heard that one before. A weird man said he'd give me free reign over his ship if I slept with him. The sex was all right, but there were no ship."

Shepard's finders tightened around the necklace as the inner anger and impatience escalated and entwined. "I don't care about your personal affairs, kid. I need that medi--"  
Her head spun, vision swam, and balance was thrown off as a powerful dose of vertigo washed over, threatening to take the woman's consciousness away.  
Shepard sunk to a knee, the impact shuddering through her entire body and disrupting every cut and bruise - but the vertigo was too powerful to allow any pain receptors to activate. In a blurred motion, the woman with the beautiful crimson hair reached for the soldier, who collapsed completely onto the terrain.  
The last thing Shepard saw was the stranger's forearm erupt in a blinding orange light before the darkness swarmed what was left of the woman who saved the universe from destruction.


	3. Chapter 3

The air was damp, the atmosphere thick with moisture and death and chaos. The noise of several items shifting sent a painful throb through a mind that shouldn't exist, the throb exploding into a death-warranting headache that caused the now awaking woman to raise an arm, three forefingers pressing against her right temple.  
When two heavy eyelids slowly opened, light flooded in that stung the back of her eyes, drawing an irritated groan from lips that parted slightly - only enough so that the sound wasn't muffled.  
Distant, sapphire orbs glanced about through slitted lids, eventually landing on a tin roof and a tall, thin figure standing in the middle of the only way out of the makeshift shelter.

The previous sound of discomfort caught the full attention of the figure, who hurdled over a wheel and a few spare parts to get to the dazed soldier. A hand slid around and supported the spot between her shoulder blades, helping the ex-Commander into a seated position. "Easy," came the barely audible voice of the female who knelt in the dirt to ensure Shepard was comfortable.  
Gabrielle buried her face in a hand to nurse the migraine to a nil - to no avail. "What... Happened?" Gods, the voice wasn't hers, instead sounded as though an entire container of gravel had been forced down her throat.  
A curt sigh jutted out of the female's throat. "Good ol' Roxy saved your ass, that's what."  
"Did you finally realise other people's feelings are more important than your addiction?" Shepard sneered.  
"Not yet, no."  
"Well, I'm sure you'll get there someday."

Roxy stood, letting her hand down for Shepard, who merely stared at it as though it had the plague. A stern look from the redhead had Shepard latching onto the outstretched limb and tugging herself to her feet. But something wasn't right. Every limb was in tact, the memories still carried a certain amount of weight, the armour was still attached... Barely. What was missing aside from the man who made every ounce of pain bearable, or every single bad mistake worth living through to witness the consequences?  
Panic shot through the woman's body as a still-bloodied hand darted to her neck, to where the dogtags were supposed to be.  
Roxy propped a hand atop her hip, another tucking its index finger and thumb into the top of her tank top, retrieving an object from between her breasts. "Looking for this?"

Sapphire eyes shot up and pinned the necklace with a horrified stare. "Give it back," Gabrielle snarled.  
Roxy merely dropped it back down her top and folded her arms. "You'll get it back when I see your ship. 'Til then, you're stuck with me. Better get used to it, yeah?"  
Darkened brows furrowed, the only sign of irritation Shepard would show. "You're going to be waiting for a while. I don't know where it is."  
Roxy rolled her eyes and walked toward the exit. "Then we're gonna have to start looking, right? Let's go, princess."

🔄

Only the Gods above knew how long it had been since the Normandy acquired a new Commander, and quite frankly, the loss of Shepard hit the man hard - hard enough the word now described his new personality. There was no longer a sarcastic, hopeless romantic of a turian; instead a cold-hearted dictator who cared nothing for the human race, claiming they were too easily broken, marking them inferior to every other species, even the short-lived salarians.

Standing atop the bridge before the galaxy map with both hands clasped behind a straight back, Commander Garrus glared down a scrunched nose at the dots on the map, pinpointing every cluster within the Milky Way. Liara, stationed at the turian's side, pointed a nervous finger to the Exodus Cluster. "We are here, sir," she whispered.  
Garrus sucked in a breath. "Find a way to Tuchanka. I have two of its people on my ship. We can drop the humans off there while we're at it."  
Grunt, who was loitering beside the Commander's terminal, tensed. "We can't just leave. I'm not going to let you kick me off the ship."  
"I'm not leaving until we find Shepard," Wrex sneered from behind the turian.  
Before another refusal could be made, Wrex's body lit up with a blue essence, preventing any and all movement from the krogan.  
"Should I remind you who your Commander is? Don't deny my wishes."  
Wrex struggled against the biotic restraints. "The only Commander I'll listen to is Commander Gabrielle Shepard."

Some of the human crew balked at the comment, a few even slightly nodding, afraid any other form of agreement would worsen the situation. But the CIC was quiet, aside from the clicking of the controls in the cockpit and humming sound from the biotics Liara was using to keep Wrex in place.  
Finally, Garrus peered over a shoulder to gaze at the disruptive krogan, before slowly descending the ramp leading to the map and stood in front of the brute, cold and calculating eyes staring directly through Wrex's soul with his hands still behind his back. "/I/ am the Commander of this ship now, and what I say goes. You underestimate my ability to end your life in multiple ways with just a simple click of my fingers."  
Wrex struggled against the hold. "Unbind me and say that again."

Before Garrus could retaliate, Kaidan, who was standing by the elevator with James, advanced a step and took up an alert stance at the krogan's side. "Garrus, you're going too far. Just-- I don't know, tone it down a bit."  
The Commander whirled toward the second human spectre and delivered a bone-chilling glare. If the man had been lacking in willpower, the gaze may have forced him to his knees. Instead of resorting to physical violence so many in that room were expecting, Garrus' mandibles flared, a hand unwinding from his other to point a shaky taloned finger at the dark-haired companion.

"You know what's 'going too far'? Having to stand there while everything I loved - everything I had - was taken away from me by the one thing we were supposed to eliminate. And due to our failure, I--" he made an aggressive gesture to himself, "-lost the one thing I ever really gave a damn about."  
The crew - even Wrex - grew silent. Even Joker, who'd lost EDI, halted the controls to let the miniature speech sink in.  
Kaidan's throat bobbed, amber hues glued to the railing behind Liara. "I was in love with her as well. We all lost Shepard, but I still think you're taking your grief too far. Hate me for saying it - hell, you already hate our species because we're too 'fragile' - but this isn't who you are," a pause was given as the Spectre placed a hand atop the turian's shoulder. "This isn't who she fell in love with."  
Garrus' head lowered, each word hitting him like a barrage of fists thrown by a raging krogan.

The hesitation gave the crew hope that the Commander would see the wrongness of his actions; realise just how much this was hurting everyone.  
But the man shook his head and nodded toward the asari, who immediately disabled the stasis, causing Wrex to sink to a knee with Grunt and Kaidan struggling to stabilise his weight. Garrus didn't even acknowledge the other people in the room before turning back to the galaxy map.  
Grunt was the one who helped Wrex up and glared at the unprotected spot just beneath the turian's carapace. "We all agreed to board the ship for Shepard's sake, to support and be here for each other. Don't cleave apart what she made possible."

Again, no direct response. Only the sound of an inhale before Garrus stared toward the cockpit, well aware Joker could hear every word. "Set a course for Tuchanka."  
"Aye aye, Commander," Joker replied via radio and swerved for the Exodus Cluster's fuel depot to prepare for the long journey.


	4. Chapter 4

An entire week had passed since the presumably dead N7 soldier awoke from the events of the reapers’ destruction, the pair still wandering the endless black ground of Earth. The further they traveled, the thicker a newly-formed black smoke cloud seemed to get. Where was it coming from?   
The best answers conjured up were;  
A. A Mako was still burning out somewhere.  
B. There were survivors building a fire to fend off the night’s freezing wrath.  
Or C. The fire was still a few days worth of travel away and had only just reached them via smoke.  
Whichever proved to be truthful, along with the suffocating cloud, sparked a lick of hope that rescue was possible.

Even when some nights yearned to leech the life from the two women, Gabrielle continued to insist they press on. She was going to stop at nothing to locate Garrus, no matter how hard surviving was.  
On the subject of living to tell the tale, the food shortage made it difficult to continue scouting the hills for any sign of human life, having only a few packaged foods Roxy had picked up along the way to last until help was found. Water, on the other hand... They had one bottle left, only taking a sip from it when they absolutely needed it.

Roxy coughed, a rattle present in lungs that tried to drag in clean oxygen. “Piss biscuit, we need to get out of here, yeah?”  
The only thing visible of Gabrielle was the pale skin poking through old and dried blood, as the cracks within the battered armour. “This has to come to an end sooner or later... We need to keep moving.”  
Head spins were coming by in horrible waves, the constant rise of bile that stung the back of a parched throat making it hard to keep what little food was in her stomach down. And to make the situation worse, a migraine sprung to life, each pang of pain feeling like an individual bullet slicing through tissue and muscle.  
Roxy found her way to Shepard and wrapped a hand around her wrist, but the grip was weak and only lasted a few seconds before the redheads hand fell. As did her entire body. As did the resigned Commander who half fell, half dove to catch Roxy. An arm slipped around Roxy’s stomach moments before the limp body would have collided with the ground.

🔄

The air tasted bitter, but it was nothing more than the aftermath of walking through a smoke cloud - it made everything taste and smell a little bit weird. Violet eyes fluttered open, lazily trying to pinpoint their location.  
Finally, the crackling of a fire sparked in her ears, drawing her attention to a shadowed figure huddled near a large fire.  
Roxy forced herself to sit upright, lungs rattling with each inhale as she studied the female cooking an unknown item skewered by a stick. “Where-- What?”  
The other woman didn’t even flinch at the raspy voice, and instead threw a freshly cooked slab of meat in her direction, which Roxy barely caught. “It’s night. Eat up and gain your strength back. We leave once the sun rises,” a familiar voice stated, returning to the fire.  
Roxy took a bite of the meat to test it - and began gnawing at it. “Where in the bloody hell did you get this?”  
A hand pointed to an overturned Mako, which seemed to have avoided most of the destruction and chaos, regardless of the bloodstains painting the ground around it.   
The outstretched hand reeled back.  
Roxy just kept chewing. “So... Why save me when you could’ve just taken your dogtags and left?”  
Her saviour pivoted and began to eat with her, the steam seeping from the meat making her nostrils twitch. “A life for a life, Roxy.”


	5. Chapter 5

Today was the day. After exploring a vast wasteland for the gods knew how long, today was the day that rescue would happen. The pair would stumble across a working vehicle, radio, or even another life form to escort them to safety. Hope hadn't been lost, and there was no way in hell Shepard was going to allow anything to come between them and rescue.  
But here they stood; the smoke was gone, grass poked through the ash and broken stone, the air clearer, but still no sign of any civilization. At least they didn't have to worry about the possibility of husks launching an attack while they slept.

All synthetics as well as beings with reaper tech inside them had been wiped out, so why did Gabrielle survive? Had her body grown accustomed to living that it no longer depended on those specific implants to function? Everything felt... Fine. Unless they weren't reaper tech implants and instead a high brand that could resurrect and stabilise a clinically brain dead body. Either way, Shepard was alive and doing all she could to reunite with the Normandy.  
Before any pleasant images of the anticipated meeting could solidify with her mind, the sound of an entire body collapsing thudded against her eardrums as curious and alert eyes peered over a tensed shoulder.  
Roxy had slumped to the ground in an angry manner, legs bent at the knees as both arms rested atop them. "Ah, shit... Who are we kidding? We ain't gonna find no pissing rescue!" She blurted, kicking a few rocks with a flick of the foot.  
Gabrielle rolled her eyes, placing a hand on top of her hip and analysing the other. "You're right - because no one has ever found anything while being lazy."  
Roxy scowled. "My feet are aching, right? And who poor fucker would wander 'round here, anyway? There's nobody out there. No ones lookin' for you."  
The N7 soldier sighed roughly through the nose and turned away to lower the chances of right-hooking the redhead in the jaw.

Landscape—more of it—greeted irritated eyes, the patches of grass gave the woman hope that there must be someone nearby, or a vehicle with a working engine. There must be at least one poor sod who wished to scout the land; for survivors, salvageable junk, a personal Mako... Whatever they were into.  
A freckled hand rose and tugged on the Commanders left gauntlet, only to peel away a chunk of cracked and singed armour. Ash and a soot-like substance clung to Roxy's hand, which dusted itself off along her right thigh, before she raised that same hand and wrapped it around Shepard's visible arm. "We'd have better luck pissing a big fricking S.O.S sign in this rubbish than run into poor garbage-guts," said the redhead.  
Gabrielle glared down at the other and shook the hand from her arm. "Everyone I knew who had an attitude similar to that is either wanted, dead, or insane. I wonder which one you'll be?" The last part was more of an aloud thought.

Questioning the ex-Commander was a dangerous line. Judging her ability to get shit done? An extremely idiotic move. Shepard survived not only the Collector base, but the Catalyst, Saren and Sovereign, as well as the entire plummet to Earth—the metallic shell of the Citadel taking the brute force of the damage when it crashed into London. Just another pile of rubble humans had to clear up...

Roxy finally stood, dusting her behind as both eyes glared at the ground as though it had the answer to an unknown question. Then those vibrant violet hues beheld the signs of life struggling to thrive in amidst the chaos and death and destruction. A sparkle engulfed her eyes... Like she was seeing the world for the very first time. Her chest inflated, her lungs yearning to feel that same beauty she was seeing. "Well... Without all that political and boring bullshit, Earth is... Kinda nice, right?"  
Something within the soldier's chest softened; a million chains releasing a stone slab of hidden and locked away emotions. "I agree."  
Roxy's head whirled toward Shepard, a fiery wave swooshing to her opposite shoulder. "Do ya ever miss it? When you go up there."  
Up there... There was nothing like standing before the galaxy map and soaring through space; an endless blanket of darkness and wonder. "Earth, although it's not my birth planet, will always be my home. No matter how far away in the Milky Way we travel," Shepard spoke smoothly, a smile she hadn't known formed faltering for a moment. "Have you never left Earth?"

The question seemed to startle the amateur scavenger with the way her eyes widened at lightning speed. The colouring in her cheeks deepened into a crimson shade. "Yeah! I have! I mean, who hasn't? Scared people with thumbs up their asses!"  
Gabrielle's head cocked to the side, her sapphire gaze softened and swarming with amusement.  
"Okay! I chickened out when I was ten, but c'mon! Space has a lot of it with a lot more of those funky lookin' birds out there somewhere! Humans have only traveled so far, yeah? We don't know what lays in wait for us outside the Silky Gay."  
"Lies," Gabrielle cut in.  
"What?"  
"We don't know what /lies/ in wait."  
Roxy's expression was anything but amused. "After all I said, /that's/ what you point out?!"  
The soldier's arms had folded at some point during the rant. "Your younger self was right to be scared of what's beyond our atmosphere; it's dangerous out there. Other species secretly hate us due to our unpredictable nature and ability to bulldoze anyone in our way to get what we want." Gabrielle faced the side of the Earth that held more greenery and frowned. "You see, Roxy, what the other races don't understand is we don't have the luxury of being able to wait out feuds or grudges... Our lifespan won't allow it. And it seems like humans are the only ones willing to get things done."

Roxy was quiet, listening intently and following the woman's gaze to the life trying to break through the rubble. "You know a lot about stuff... Just who are you, lady?"  
Gabrielle's smile returned, her eyes now lowering to watch her own foot kick a hardened dirt rock. "I am..." Who was she? Garrus was the Commander of the Normandy now... Her chest inflated until her lungs hurt and lifted her chin. "My name is Gabrielle Shepard of the Alliance Navy."  
The redhead blinked in disbelief and sheer surprise. "No... What? You're Commander Shepard?!"  
"Actually...--"  
"You're one of those big important people way up there! You stopped Saren and destroyed that Receiver Base!"  
"Collector Base."  
"Whatever!" Roxy chirped, a gleam present in her eyes. "You're supposed to be dead.... You mean I've been rocking it out with a ghost for a week and a bit?! My red sand supplier said this would happen... Piss!"

Silence.

"You realise you just confessed to an Alliance soldier, right?" Shepard flatly stated.  
Roxy's brows lowered, and her lips thinned into a tight line. "But you're dead and—ugh, just stop talking! You're giving me weird thoughts!"  
Around the sounds of Roxy's confusion, a low hum in the near distance made itself known, causing Gabrielle to lose all attention for the woman at her side.  
The hum was constant, occasionally raising or lowering in pitch, the scraping of dirt and gravel mixed in with the noise.  
And then it clicked.

"Roxy. Start running," Shepard ordered before she sped off, her bones protesting in the form of pained pangs.  
Even when smothered by her confusion, Roxy followed suit, her face screwed into panic. "But you're dead!"  
"That's either a poor excuse of a threat or an incorrect statement, but whichever it is, you need to speed up!" Shepard barked over a shoulder.  
The redhead chose to trust the soldier and increased her pace. "What is it?!"  
A warm smile shaped Shepard's lips as she twisted to aim the pleasant expression at her travel partner—for reassurance or motivation, it didn't matter. "Rescue."


	6. Chapter 6

How many days had passed since the borderline-brawl that started in the CIC? Garrus hadn’t been keeping track. Time technically didn’t exist in space, anyway, so it didn’t really matter. All he knew was it had been so damned long since Wrex nearly had his tongue ripped out and limbs torn off.  
The other thing Garrus hadn’t kept track of was his movements, seeing as he was now standing in the middle of the Normandy’s elevator with both talon-tipped hands balled into tight fists at his sides.

Every single human crew member attempted conversation whenever Garrus happened to exit the Main Battery room, despite the claims he’d made about their species after his lover was taken from him. They were either stupid… Or incredibly forgiving.  
Crystalline hues pinned the elevator’s doors with an empty, half-lidded stare, both mandibles flattening against his face moments before he rose an uncovered three-fingered hand to drag the pad of his ‘index’ down the smooth, icy surface of the metal in front of him. His chest inflated beneath his casual clothing.  
Before he was ready, the speakers erupted with a loud ‘DING’, drawing a flinch out of every part of his body as the doors silently slid open, revealing a very small room with another floor-to-ceiling door in the upper left hand corner. Better now than never…

With a struggled inhale, Garrus stepped out of the elevator, his breath hitching when the doors closed behind him. Everything was so quiet… So eerily quiet, except for one noise; bubbles.  
Hesitant steps took the turian to the next door, his chest aching with the weight of emotions that chose to rest there. Steady… Breathe.  
The door split into four pieces and retracted into the walls, ceiling and floor, revealing a room that hadn’t been explored since…  
Garrus reluctantly entered. Everything was in the same place… The same place /she/ left it.   
A hand glided over the long corner desk as distant, dull eyes looked at all of the messily placed documents and unfinished letters addressed to--

Garrus instantly snatched the papers up, hands shaking as his eyes flew over the familiar handwriting. They were addressed to him. A will. Here, in written form, showed everything Shepard had given up and handed over to him. A bank account with more digits in it than he earned in a decade, all rights to the Normandy and its instalments, a proper declaration of the ships new choice of Commander… That damned apartment made it on the list, too.  
Tears stung the back of his eyes as he threw the papers toward the downstairs sitting area. “Damn it, Gabrielle!” Garrus roared, sauntering down the few steps and starting to trash the place.   
The couch cushions were shredded and hurled toward the other side of the room, the blankets bundled up, torn and their remains scattered, the figurines she used to collect now littering the floor in shattered pieces.

The newly installed monitor was hauled from where it was stationed and thrown onto the ground.   
By the time he was finished, his chest was heaving, his vocal chords emitting animalistic growls and his tears cascading down both turian-styled cheeks in thick streams... A downside to suppressing them for however long the breakdown lasted.  
His gaze shifted to stare at the mess he had made; much like the third time he and Gabrielle spent the night in this very cabin and had to hire someone to reconstruct the walls and replace most of the furniture. Those memories made the turian flinch away and pivot to face the cushionless couch, disgust and anger lining every inch of his scarred, pained face.   
Just as he made to take an awkward seat upon any undamaged surface, a light caught the corner of his small eye, completely drawing his attention.

Every single thought silenced. The anger simmered down into cinders. The tears, however, continued their descent. A singular desk sat to the right of the bed. Fake candles flickered at a faint light, briefly illuminating the items that formed a semi-circle around artificial roses and a strategically placed ribbon.  
The semi-circle consisted of several photo frames, small in size toward the outside, and gradually increasing in height and width the further the line got to the middle. Each frame held a different memory; for instance, the first one on the left displayed their very first date, where Gabrielle had an allergic reaction by trying to lure Garrus closer for a smooch with a cherry in her mouth. The next one was a sneaky one. Gabrielle's face took up half of the right side of the picture, a few scars painted on her cheeks—meaning the photo had been taken a few weeks after Cerberus resurrected and completely stabilised her—and in the background... Was Garrus. Busy talking to Mordin about some ointment that may help with his own scarring. The sneakiness of the picture... Maybe that's why Shepard wore a smug grin..?

A bitter laugh escaped his tensed mandibles after crystalline eyes flicked over to observe the third frame. Shore leave. Shepard had scraped her knee, called Garrus in a severe panic and demanded that he saw her at once, letting the turian believe that her injury was more grave than it actually was. The picture showed the bedroom they shared in Anderson's apartment, the floor littered with medical bags, a grinning and satisfied human sitting on the lap of a partially irritated turian. Shepard's arms were wrapped around his neck, cheeks giving off that adorable pink glow...  
It almost made Garrus scream.

Moving onto the right side... In order, the photos showed their second anniversary, where Liara had taken a picture of Shepard kissing Garrus' scarred cheek with a hand cupping the other. His attempt of a smile ruined the beautiful aura radiating from his lover. At this point, Garrus had taken a seat on the couch and leaned forward to continue gazing at the next few frames.  
Their last movie night ending in the entire room practically buried underneath popcorn and candy corn... And their last before-sex photograph. Damn it, they had to re-do that last one several times before it was deemed worthy enough to be framed, it seemed... Gods, she always looked perfect when laying beneath him... With those silent pleas for more, the way those creamy, human thighs shook with every arousing stroke and touch...

Breathe, Garrus. Concentrate and focus on the last photo in the direct middle.  
An overhead shot with the both of them sitting on the coastland of Hawaii, although Gabrielle was using Garrus as her seat. Both of his arms were wrapped around her bare stomach, the underside of his chin resting atop her right shoulder with an undeniable look of infatuation drenching his features.  
Her toothy grin... Who could get tired of seeing that? Being a badass was one thing, but being able to stop a man dead in his tracks upon seeing that smile of hers, too!  
"You... Were the greatest gift I could've asked for," he croaked out, throat tender with the raw emotion coursing through his system, his hand reaching out to grab the middle frame, sad eyes still leaking a steady stream of liquid. "I love--"  
"Commander?"  
Garrus jolted at the sudden radio. "What is it, Joker?"  
"We're nearing the Krogan DMZ. The crew need directions and new placement orders," Joker replied.

A taloned finger stroked at the glass, tracing Shepard's creamy, smooth cheek, before Garrus leaned the diamond crest of his forehead against the photo, allowing his eyes to shut briefly and his nose to slowly inhale... Like he was trying to find a trace of her scent.  
"Remind me in an hour, Joker... I have something else I need to do," Garrus spoke out, then laid back on the couch, cradling the picture frame to his chest.


	7. Chapter 7

Riding inside a Mako as a passenger proved to be less exciting than being in the driver's seat and sending the vehicle vertically up a cliff. Positioned in the backseat with a not-so-nervous Roxy, Gabrielle Shepard stared in an uncertain manner at the backs of the seats at the front, their occupants making it hard to not leap out of the Mako. Curling her hands into fists to stop them from shaking, Shepard awkwardly cleared her throat, causing the front passenger seat to pivot until it faced the two women in the back. An unfamiliar face belonging to a hated species... It made the soldier cringe.  
"Let me get this straight," Shepard started, leaning forward and bracing both elbows atop her armoured thighs. "You two are Roxy's... What, 'First' and 'Second'? Partners in crime? Scavenger buddies?"  
Roxy released a breath she'd been holding for some time. "Speaking in your weird freaky space mumbo-jumbo shit, yeah. First and Second."  
"I'm her First," called the driver.  
"I don't really care who is what. If Roxy trusts you, then I guess I don't have much of a choice," the soldier replied bitterly, eyes struggling to keep themselves away from the lingering multiple eyes of Roxy's Second. To make it easier, she faced Roxy in the chair beside her and fixed her with a half-concerned, half-disbelieving glare. "I need time to wrap my head around this-- you're telling me that these two degenerates swooped in and abducted hundreds of children from a colony in the Hades Gamma system, and your first thought was 'I want to work with these guys'?"

The pause between question and answer was... Unnerving.  
Roxy lifted a single shoulder in a shrug, her bottom lip sticking out. "Yeah?"  
Shepard blinked and loosed a tensed breath. "Wow."  
The redhead whined softly, hanging her head and burying her face in her hands. "It's hard living when you don't have a crafty record and background keeping your head above the water! Us little people don't have fancy titles and gear and permits to shoot stuff!"  
Almost as if in agreeance or to emphasise her statement, the Mako hit a few aggressive bumps, the two in the front barely moving an inch.  
Gabrielle gestured to the passenger, who was still facing them and staring at the N7 soldier. "Batarians, Roxy?!"  
The driver growled out something in an unknown dialect, which made Roxy bristle and her jaw to clench. "Easy... They—look, they might not be everyone's slice of ham... But they're mine." The woman gave her Second a look that held a slight hint of adoration.

Gabrielle simply rolled her eyes and stood, a dirtied and bloodied hand latching onto anything bolted to the floor to ensure she didn't topple over, before she stepped into the middle aisle. "I'll be in the back trying to regain my mind, sanity, and understanding of life. If any of you had half a mind... You'd keep your distance," was all she said before she moved two rows back and practically slumped against the seat, her ears tingling with the sounds of Roxy's Second's chair swivelling back around to face the windscreen.  
Resting an elbow against the inner side of the Mako, Shepard ran her own fingers through her short-cropped hair, an irritated sigh loosing itself into the tight space between her mouth and the chair in front of her. Even if they were batarians, Gabrielle was as safe as she could be at that moment in time and taking her first step on her road to recovery.  
"Only a matter of time, Garrus."


	8. Chapter 8

Tuchanka had little to offer apart from the musky scented air with a tinge of Rincol. Hilarious...  
With the Normandy docked and the crew escorting their belongings into the closest secure room, everything was going according to a false shittily thought of plan. Garrus was, again, standing atop the metallic bridge behind the galaxy map, back hunched instead of straight with his hands wrapped around the safety railing in a death grip. Thank whoever made the turian species for not giving them sweat glands...  
So many humans were running around frantically, coming in and out of the room to move their possessions. It made the Commander furious... Therapy had made him realise how wrong this all was; Shepard therapy, where he'd spent an hour or two on the ruined couch with that one photograph and cried until there was nothing left.

Liara was lingering nearby, posture nervous and tense—like she was preparing for a scolding of sorts. When Garrus' inhale was sharp, the asari flinched, her own breath hitching and catching in the back of her throat.   
"Relax... I'm not going to hurt you," he flatly reassured.  
Liara's shoulders seemed to release some of the tension. "I have kept a close eye on you... We can stop this. It is not too late to turn back."  
Turn back... Oh, Garrus wanted to turn back—turn back time so he died on that field instead of Shepard. Nothing would ever be the same as long as she was wasting away somewhere and he was alive, on the Normandy, warm, safe, and well-fed. At least with Shepard here, everything would be in order and not at risk of falling apart due to an emotional breakdown and near-physical fight.  
Garrus' mandibles flattened against his face, his grip tightening to make the metal groan. "I don't know."  
"You... Do not know what?"  
"I don't know what to do." There. He said it. "I let my emotions take over and cloud my judgement, my old comrades fear me, and half the crew is leaving as we speak—all because everything has gone to shit after we lost the best damned soldier this Galaxy has ever seen."  
Liara took her bottom lip between her teeth and pondered in silence. "Shepard entrusted you with the Normandy—"  
"And I've screwed it all up!" Garrus barked, whirling toward Liara and unintentionally gaping at her. "No matter how hard I try, I will /never/ be as good as she was—Gabrielle left behind enormous shoes to fill; shoes that I can never hope to fill. You want to know why, Liara?" Garrus descended the ramp, taking the woman by the shoulders and lightly shaking her. "Because no one could compare to her. Who was like her?! She went out of hers and the Alliance's way to find the best route around every single situation no matter how much stress it put on her shoulders!"

The room slowly filled with every crew member, hesitant to bid their farewells, but they were stunned by the breakdown. Even Wrex had stuck around to hear the end of it and absorb everything.  
"Gabrielle was the only Commander in existence who was equally fair and compassionate; the only one capable of leading this ship. And her crew? The people she bonded with on a personal level? I failed them."  
The room grew silent when Garrus took a moment to let out a pained gasp of realization. He hung his head, knees bending and threatening to give out. "/I/ failed /them/..."  
Liara was quiet throughout the emotional episode, soon lifting a tiny, gloved hand to cup one of Garrus' mandibles to gently ease the rest of the turian's head up to share eye contact, despite how much the man dreaded it. "We care, Garrus."  
Crystalline eyes widened and reluctantly looked around the room, catching every single face of the crew, meeting them eye-for-eye.  
"We hear you," Kaidan called from the back next to James.  
"It's not too late!" Gabby shouted from beside Adams.

A large, meaty and armoured hand closed around Garrus' forearm, instantly attracting his attention.  
Wrex had at some point and unnoticeably detached from the crowd and now stood beside Garrus at the foot of the galaxy map bridge, expression neutral and unreadable. It took a moment until the krogan stuck out his free hand. Garrus just stared at it.  
"Come on, Vakarian... We don't have time to stand around and look pretty—or an asshole in your case. We can either go out and get shit done, or continue sulking here. Your choice."  
Gods... Inhaling, Garrus took the hand, the action followed by a bitter laugh. "I deserve that..." He then turned to face the crew, all battle sense and techniques used to maintaining bothersome emotions settling in and taking over. "Go back and get your stuff. Restock if possible; we're going to find Shepard."


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please note that this is a flashback!! These will be happening every few chapters.

Sunny beaches, waves, several temperature shifts and weather changes. Such an unusual concept… Palaven didn’t have ‘snow’, or tropical fronts, or anything that was less harmful than their own sun and radiation. For the past week, Gabrielle had taken Garrus on a tour of Earth – the only problem was… Everything went completely wrong. Rainstorms and blizzards similar to those on Noveria forcefully cancelled majority of the activities Gabrielle had asked to take a month off work for. As for now, though… The only sunny day they’d witnessed since first landing was spent hauling ass to the very last planned destination; a place Garrus couldn’t even begin to pronounce… Hawaii.   
By the time their private shuttle landed, most of the day’s hours had been lost to time and poor luck, which gave the uncommon-yet-perfect couple little to no time to get the apparent ‘important’ things done.   
Those important things included; eating this icy version of their ‘milk’ with different flavours and on-the-side nuts that could be mixed in, followed by a brief shopping trip for an unknown reason, and finally… A last-minute trip to a secret destination, with Gabrielle wearing presumably nothing but a towel. He was even forced into foreign clothing only covering the male’s lower half. ‘It’ll absorb the stuff we’ll be in!’ Gabrielle had chimed when shoving the clothing item into his chest. 

Trees were everywhere, the route they were taking used to mask any possible trace of the next destination’s identity. It was an understatement to say the tidal wave of nerves was just ‘mild anxiety’.   
Finally, after what seemed like an eternity of walking, a shriek of excitement filled the air; Shepard was now barrelling down a sudden slope in the terrain ahead, notifying the turian that they had finally arrived. Speeding up his pace to make sure she didn’t leave his sight, Garrus was more than eager to spot why his lover was being so damned secretive. Normally when she acted like that, it was a definite sign to turn and run in the other direction.   
The sounds of near-static and the scent of salted water hit the man long before the sight did; yellow grains of… Salt, and water. Confused and uncertain eyes lowered to stare at the new terrain making his forked feet sink beneath the surface. “Uh… Gabrielle?” He called almost in a disgusting manner. “What is this?”   
Half way across the foreign land that stretched into the furthest parts of the horizon, Shepard gestured to the water crawling up the yellow salt, the liquid then making its slow retreat to join with the rest of itself, with the hand that held her shoes. “A beach!” She called back.   
Garrus followed her gesture along to where Earth’s sun was setting along the water in the far distance. “A beach…” Garrus murmured absentmindedly. “So… The ground is called beach salt?” 

There was a weighted pause, before Shepard burst into a fit of laughter that had his skin heating. “Does Palaven not have sand?!”   
“I’ve never heard of sarnd.”   
“Saaaand,” Gabrielle corrected, beckoning him closer with a flick of the hand.   
Garrus obliged right away, murmuring ‘sand’ under his breath the entire walk to try and get it right. “Is it called saind – sarnd – saend – because it’s between the sea and the land?” He purred out, smoothly wrapping both plated arms around Shepard from behind.   
“No. No, you aren’t hitting me with your conspiracy theories today, Garrus.” Gabrielle groaned out, even when a smile had pinned the corners of her mouth to her cheeks. She tried to playfully haul herself away and wriggle out of his embrace, but he held fast and growled against her ear. “We don’t have enough time to stand around, you silly turian. C’mon, let me show you something.~” 

Garrus let the woman scoop his bare talon-tipped hands into hers and lead him further toward the bipolar water; it didn’t know if it wanted to gulp up the sand or join the rest of the endless spread of itself, where it rose and curled and crashed against the surface of the liquid, forming the static-y sounds.  
It was colder than the man anticipated. The water rushed to cover his feet all the way up to where his haunches bent backward, due to the N7 soldier luring him in deeper.  
When his guard had finally lowered, Gabrielle cupped and dunked both of her hands into the water and proceeded to splash him, unaware she still wore her towel. His growled response made her laugh and do it again.  
“If I were you, I’d stop that,” Garrus warned.  
“Or what, Vakarian?” Gabrielle asked, poking her tongue out. “What are you going to do?” Was she /taunting/ him?  
Faster than lightning, Garrus had Shepard hoisted over his right shoulder, a hand securing her now bare lower back, since the towel fell away. Challenge accepted. Gabrielle was… God, she was laughing… And kicking her legs about. “Put me down! Put me down!!” She wailed through her fit of giggles.

With his mandibles flaring, Garrus growled and carried her out of the ocean, finding more sanctuary and safety on dry land. “…’Put me down’, you say?” With a simple fluid movement, the turian had switched Shepard’s position quickly, now holding her by her hips and dangling her upside down. Her legs were bent at the knee and tucked underneath his arm.   
A bunch of raven hair barely skimmed over the sand, creamy hands darting between his hands and the ground. “Yes! Properly!!” At least she was still laughing.  
Garrus hummed in thought. “Convince me..~”  
“Okay! I, Commander Shepard, swear to thee that I will stop being a brat!”  
“Oh, how admirable,” Garrus snorted.  
Shepard groaned, her chest heaving so she had more air to waste on giggles. “Uhh… I won’t splash you again?” The turian shook his head. “I’m running low here!” She announced, trying to crane her neck to look up at her captor.  
She was too cute, it was impossible to resist. Garrus hauled her back up so they were face-to-face, her feet now barely inches away from touching the ground, and instantly claimed her mouth in a turian-styled kiss. That shocked and surprised gasp that left her lips excited him…  
Shepard kissed back for a while before peeling away, both arms wrapped around the outer side of his carapace. “I promise to…” She leaned closer to level her mouth to his ear. “Work on my flexibility…~”

Pressure started to grow beneath the turian’s lower plates. It was hard to resist the urge to back her against one of the many trees and take her… He growled out his irritation and set her down.  
“Good boy!” She chimed, scooping her hands into hers and gesturing for him to sit. “We need to capture this moment, since it’s the only thing that went right on this trip.”  
Garrus took a seat without question, to which she sat directly in his lap and pulled out a smaller-than-palm-sized camera from the hidden pocket in his swimwear. She rose it into the air and angled it to catch the right light from the remainder of the sun. Both of his arms wound around her waist as he rested his chin on her right shoulder for comfort, small eyes too focused on witnessing her beauty.  
A snapping noise sounded from the camera seconds before she lowered it into her lap, a smile ghosting over her lips.  
“Hey, Shepard?” He quietly asked.  
“Yes, Vakarian?” She responded, aiming that irresistible smile in his direction.   
“You look sexy in that swimsuit.”  
Gabrielle snorted and leaned further into him, a content sigh entering the endless space. “I love you, Garrus…”  
Excited yet calm eyes rose to watch as the rest of the sun disappeared over the horizon. “I love you too… Which is why I’m ripping it off you when we get back to the hotel.”  
Shepard playfully smacked him. And that is how they spent the rest of the evening; wrapped in each other’s company and enjoying the sunset.


	10. Chapter 10

Headquarters. An underground headquarters uninvolved with the Alliance or any humane organisation. Hundreds of eyes were cautiously locked onto the four who had just stepped off the elevator platform – and rightfully so. These men and women were outcasts and knew the N7 soldier on a personal level. The floor was made up of what looked and smelled like saturated, moulded cardboard and mulch, the squelching sounds every time someone took a step adding more sickness to the woman's gut.  
Roxy's First received a message from their 'base', demanding an immediate appearance from the group and their apparent prisoner, meaning Shepard. That title made the woman even more nervous and on edge.

The large open hall lined with bunk sections along the walls held several doorless doorframes branching off into individual hallways and only the Gods knew what. Roxy's First lead them in through the first archway, the walls cramped and barely managing to squeeze two side-by-side criminals through at once. Where in the hell were they even going? So many outlaws had a bone to pick with Gabrielle; mainly for the fact she dealt with them personally and put them all into this situation over her time as a normal soldier, an N7 recruit and graduate, a Commander, and Spectre. What were they going to do to her...?  
Another doorway came up out of nowhere to their right. It lead them to a staircase that lowered even further into the ground than they'd already travelled. The three criminals started their descent almost straight away, although Roxy's slight hesitation made Shepard anxious.

Soon, they were all exploring the fourth level under, seemingly aimlessly wandering about if Roxy's First didn't inevitably know where he was going.  
Roxy's pace slowed so Shepard could catch up.  
“Why is there--” Roxy cut her off with a finger placed against her own lips, before that same digit rose higher and lightly tapped at her ear poking through the fiery waves of her hair, then pointed toward the two batarians leading them.  
'Do you sign?' Roxy asked via hand signs.  
A nod from Shepard had the redhead almost sighing with relief, from the way both eyelids fluttered and shoulders sagged. 'Why is there a hideout on Earth?' Gabrielle signed.  
'They formed this when a team of batarians and salarians tried to visit and were mistaken for bandits and troublemakers. Their shuttles and ships were shot down so they couldn't leave and were banished to the uninhabited parts of London,' Roxy answered.  
Shepard's brows rose. 'Can we communicate like this from now on?'  
'Why?'  
'Because you actually make sense this way.'  
Roxy gave her a vulgar gesture. Shepard had to stifle her laugher. 'Sorry. Continue.'

Rolling both violet eyes, the redhead reluctantly obliged. 'Those who started this organisation opened their arms to anyone who experienced what they had, even human criminals who were able to escape judgement. It's like... A family.'  
That last part had Shepard sneering. 'Like those families your group has destroyed with murder or abductions?'  
Roxy blinked, worry and confusion taking over her features. 'No! We don't kill anyone but each other outside these walls! These people-- /we/ are good people. We only scout the land for food and things we need.'  
'Is.. that what you were doing when we met?'  
A quick nod was given. Gabrielle sighed.

Before either of them could continue signing, Roxy's First spun around beside another archway, a gloved hand gesturing for Shepard to step through first. A reassuring nod and faint smile from Roxy had Gabrielle sucking in a breath and proceeding.  
The next room was pitch black, the scent, feel and ground of it dramatically different from the maze they travelled through. After the rest of their four-man squad entered, a door she didn't know existed clicked shut behind them, leaving them in complete darkness. Out of nowhere, Gabrielle was blinded by brighter-than-expected light, illuminating an entire Normandy CIC-sized room. The floor, ceiling and walls were all impossibly white. Down the other end of the room, a dais sat sturdily along the entire back wall, supporting three throne-like chairs; all supporting the founding species, it seemed. A salarian was on the left, a human on the right, and a batarian in the middle, all of which were hungrily looking at the group – at Shepard.  
Roxy nudged her forward.

“This is she?” The salarian asked right off the bat.  
Roxy's First stepped forward, flanked by her Second and herself. All of their heads elevated to show respect with their hands clasped behind their backs. “Yes,” her First answered.  
The throned human leaned forward to get a better look at the soldier, who was made to kneel in front of the trio. “Interesting... Given all the legends surrounding her name, I would've thought she'd have more battle scars. The fact that she's even alive is truly remarkable.”  
The salarian cleared his throat and focused on Roxy's buddies. “Thax. Explain how she came into your care.”  
Roxy's First took another step forward, this time leaving the other two of his team behind. “She was found wandering about with Roxy. Her survival is a miracle in itself.”

Shepard stopped listening after that. Were they trying to mock the Council? This cheesy setup had the N7 soldier feeling disgusted and trapped in her own broody thoughts. Roxy said they were good people with hardly a violent bone in their bodies, but with how the throned batarian was leering at her... she was feeling everything but a pleasant vibe.  
That same batarian rose a hand to silence their drowned out conversation and stood, all four eyes still locked onto her. “I've come to a decision on what we should do with her,” he announced, causing the three behind her to bristle. “I, Tarak Mistur, will order you, Thax Dirthak, to imprison Miss Commander Shepard so she can await execution.”  
“Wait... What?!” Roxy blurted.  
Shepard's heart dropped into the deepest pit of her stomach.   
A razor-sharp smirk curled on Tarak's mouth. “Nearly everyone here wants her dead for what she's done to them. I'm only simply giving them what they desire... With a public execution.”  
The color leeched from Gabrielle's face.  
“No! This is not who we are!” Roxy yelled.

The redhead’s distress bolted Thax and her Second to the floor, their shoulders tense. “Maybe we can figure out some other outcome?” Thax unsurely asked.  
”No,” Tarak grinned. The doors opened behind them and in came a dozen more-than-capable batarians who all seemed to have multiple years of training sessions at their backs. “Thax. Escort her out and to the cellars,” Tarak pressed.  
Thax’s oddly shaped nostrils flared as he glanced toward Roxy, hesitation holding him in place. Roxy just stared wide-eyed at him, silently begging him to comply to avoid further punishments.  
Roxy’s Second stepped forward and jerked Shepard to her feet. Roxy launched and tried to pry his hands away, incoherently screaming.  
”Guards; detain the traitor and take them to the cellars,” Tarak spoke solidly.   
”Traitor?” Roxy wailed out.  
”For trying to defend a captured prisoner and not obeying orders, I sentence you, Roxy Stirling, to death, along with your raven-haired friend,” the batarian leader announced, his guards now swooping in to fulfill their orders within the blink of an eye.

Thax snarled protectively and jumped to try and defend Roxy from any of the men who dared to venture too close to her. Two guards managed to grab him and forced him to watch as a frozen Shepard and disturbed, enraged Roxy was dragged toward the doors.  
”I trusted you!” Roxy screamed at Tarak, just as he waved a hand toward the two that held Thax in place with little to no struggle. They knocked him to his knees.  
”Don’t you dare touch him! Kra’tash!” She roared, fighting against the four that wrestled her to the outside hall. “Thax! Thax!! Tarak, I will rip your spine out through your-”

The doors swung shut. But, the last thing they saw before being dragged away was an enclosed fist colliding against Thax’s jaw, the force sending him onto his hands and knees.  
Roxy just kept screaming.


	11. Chapter 11

Cellars were a place Shepard hadn't been to before; sometimes to check on captives, but never as a prisoner. At least she had an entire room to herself after she worked with Cerberus.  
With both elbows resting atop sturdy knees, Gabrielle's face was covered in shadow from her hair, squinted eyes pinning the ground with a lethal stare. How were they going to get out of this mess?  
Roxy paced beside the bars and cell door, muttering curses and a bunch of profanities directed at the man responsible for their imprisonment. Roxy's face was starch white, her hands shaking whenever she stood still for long enough. Something must have really gotten to her.

Clearing a dry throat, Gabrielle leaned back to give her arms a rest and started peeling off more of the armour to allow breathing space for her skin. "So... do you want to talk about whatever has made you this on-edge?" A cautious question to try and break away some of the tension.  
Roxy's frantic eyes snapped to the Commander, hands now burying their fingers into the long length of ruby hair. "The Kra'tash has Thax! That's enough to squash his eyeballs with my big toe!" Another few string of curses came tumbling out - some in English, some in an unknown dialect. "Thax is my Reth... My First. And my bed warmer."  
Concern laced with amusement shaped her features. "Are you and Thax... a couple?" God, it almost made her cringe to say the word.  
A distant nod from the woman, who then sat down with her back slamming against the cold bars. Both knees bent, and her elbows rested atop them, her fingers wringing each other. "It's all done and good, yeah? Can't change the past now. But they're not bad. Thax has a humour that connects with mine, understand? No one else was that special." Roxy's hands turned raw from how much she was playing with them.

Shepard watched her head turn to try and look down the dark hallway of the cellars, and could have sworn her eyes glazed over. She was hoping to reunite with Garrus; a turian. Maybe she could try and accept their relationship, even if she didn't agree.  
Sighing curtly into the quiet space, Shepard took away a chunk of her shoulder piece, almost moaning at the feel of the cold air latching onto the sweaty skin beneath.   
A sniffle sounded at the bars, before Roxy's head turned back around, eyes pinned to her fingers that were now inspecting some small cuts along her palms. "Do you have someone like that?"  
"That's a sudden question. Is there a different meaning behind it?"  
The redhead made a face. "No, dumbass. I just didn't want to talk about me no more."

A small smile tugged on the corners of her lips. "Yes. His name is Garrus Vakarian, and he is my motivation to keep pressing forward. I will stop at nothing to find him again." A thigh plate crumbled to the floor beneath the wooden plank that was supposed to be used as their bed. "Look, Roxy... I won't lecture you on what to do with your life, as I do not know what has happened between the two of you for you to grow so attached... But I will tell you to be careful."  
"Why's that?"  
"Because with the type of organisation you're apart of, anything - absolutely /anything/ - can happen. You need to prepare yourself for the worst so it's easier to deal with, if anything does end up happening."  
"I know that, ass stick. Stop tryna be all-knowing and shit."

A swift shake of the head was given as a response. "Do you feel like talking about how you two met?"  
Roxy merely chewed on her lower lip, eyes now glaring at the ash-like remnants of the N7 armor.   
"I'll take that as a no, then."  
Before Roxy could fire up, a door down the hallway burst open, followed by the sounds of several rushed footsteps echoing down the corridor.  
Within seconds, two Batarians opened up the cell directly across from them, and shoved their next prisoner onto the ground, before slamming the door shut and locking it. One of the soldiers spat at the feet of the person crumpled on the ground before removing themselves from the dungeon.  
Gabrielle was almost scared to look to see who it was, just in case it was Thax, beaten, bloodied and bruised...  
Roxy took one look at him, sprung to her feet and latched onto the bars with a death grip. "Birajuujuu!!" Roxy screeched, adrenaline wanting to send her directly through the cage. "I will skin you and your entire family, Akmar!"

Roxy's Second sat up, head hung low, features cast in shadow. Regret clogged the air that was radiating from him. "What's done is done. We are all to await our end."  
Roxy projectile spat at the batarian. "How fucking dare you! Talk to me about honor that I'm your leader, and you let Thax get hit?" Roxy roared, now swearing colorfully at the man.  
Gabrielle forced herself to stand and place a hand on her acquaintances shoulder; to try and soothe her, to tell her to calm down... however the gesture was taken.  
The redhead was panting, the skin between her brows scrunched, and teeth bared in a vicious snarl. "He's not worth nothing. Fuck me up the ass, right, Akmar? Must have been high on red sand to trust you."

Akmar only sighed as Roxy turned back around and sauntered to the bed, ready to end the day and wake up with a refreshed mind, it seemed.


	12. Chapter 12

Screaming. Blood-curdling screaming erupted over the colony. Waking in a cold sweat, violet orbs flung open to take in the orange tint left on her entire small bedroom. Heat and smoke filled the air, making it almost impossible to breathe, and Roxy wiped moisture away from her eyes to help the stinging ease. She knew what this was; what the emergency plans were whenever something like this occured, she just didn't think it'd happen in her lifetime.  
Batarians were invading her home colony in the Haded Gamma cluster, pillaging what little their people had to offer, and only God knew what they were doing to the women and children.

Small pre-teen hands latched out to grab onto the edge of her bed and haul her forward at blinding speed. Her little brother wasn't in his toddler bed next to their parents room, the blanket disturbed and his sleeping teddy missing. Maybe he had already been collected by their mother and was already down at the safe point?  
As Roxy was trying to find a cloth to throw over her mouth to try and filter the smoke going into her lungs, a crash sounded from down the stairs, as well as a few rushed footsteps. Worried eyes peered around to try and find any surface to hide behind, and she ended up throwing herself into the hallway cupboard, hands desperately dragging the folded towels across her body for some sort of coverage.

Masculine and foreign voices were heard when an estimated two strangers made it up the staircase. Then everything was quiet.  
Roxy's heartbeat thundered in her ears, her jagged breathing the only noise she could hear for a short time. A shadow passed under the cupboard door, and her breath hitched in her throat, a hand clamping over both mouth and nose to try and stifle any noise. 

Silence. Eery silence, apart from the splintering wood of rooftops crumbling from the fire and damage and the screams in the distance.  
Hands shaking and forehead sweating, the redhead subtly leaned forward to peep through the keyhole of the door; to see if the intruders had left, to see if the coast was clear so she could make a break for it, or to reassure herself that he was no longer outside the door...  
When everything seemed fine, an eye appeared on the other side of the keyhole, and Roxy cried out, a hand tightening its clamp to muffle the sound.  
The doorknob twisted in the blink of an eye, and when that door opened...

A hideous beast that had only been seen in pictures from the extranet stood there, light gear hiding most of his body, but that face... two eyes either side of his face, a scrunched nose, a large, bald head that looked slimy in the light...  
Bile rose up the chute of her throat to sting her tongue. Such a disgusting thing... No wonder they were so evil.  
The batarian seemed to pause when it saw her, though, its many eyes scanning the details of her young face, nostrils flaring every so often. Was he /smelling/ her?  
A voice echoed from the hall, to which the batarian turned his head to communicate with whoever was on the outside. A language not of her own.

His attention fixated on her again, his friend climbing down the stairs, and he bent over at the waist to get a better look at her.  
Her bottom lip was trembling, teeth chattering, and she swallowed to dislodge the emotions clogging her throat. "C-C-Can I... Can I help you?"  
He inhaled fiercely, eyes now lingering on her hair. A clawed hand extended, and she flinched back until she pressed against the wall behind her. Long discoloured fingers took a few strands of her hair and twirled them around his index, sharp, needle-like teeth appearing through a newly opened slit in his mouth. A smile?  
She batted his hand away. "What do you want from me?!"  
The stranger grabbed both of her wrists and held tight to the point she started losing circulation quickly. Wincing, tears then finally raced down her sweaty cheeks.  
"I... want you," said a horrific voice, the stench that came along with it making her stomach turn. "Come... follow me."

Roxy didn't have a choice before she was hauled out of the cupboard and dragged downstairs, thrashing against the hold the entire trip, until they stood at the bottom of the stairs, two other batarians busy searching the kitchen and living room.  
Her captor cleared his throat, spoke in his language, and gestured to her, to which his friends grinned.  
One dressed in white laughed - like nails being raked down a chalkboard. "Keep it if you must. We aren't here to make pets," he growled in a horrid accent. "Just be sure to tell the boss you're going to clean up after it."  
A firm nod from the man beside her before she was dragged outside - to return to whatever ship they came from, presumably.

The outside air clung to every soaked patch on the teenagers body, and the sight that greeted them when they exited the building... buildings were collapsed in heaps of rubble, small fires clung to several surfaces, and the bodies... the stench...  
Roxy retched. Then threw herself over her knees and emptied the contents of her stomach onto the ground between her feet. Her captor was kind enough to move her hair out of the way and wipe a bit of vomit off a few strands.  
"Your... fur... is delightful," he purred out, threading a few fingers through the long locks of her hair. "I haven't seen anything like it."  
A dry chuckle escaped her as a hand rose to wipe the saliva from the corner of her mouth. "You'd be the first."  
His face shifted to astonishment. "That... is very peculiar. Your fur should be worshipped upon."

When she didn't respond, the man rolled his shoulders and attempted to look her in the eye. Roxy kept staring at the ground, waiting for more bile to appear. "I'm not going to hurt you," he stated.  
Roxy's head flicked up at that, shock lining her face.  
"You're safe with me. I do not want such a beauty to perish in this pillage, so you will come with me. Be my guest back on the fleet."  
The redhead retrieved her hair from his hands and threw it over a shoulder, before she forced her eyes to meet his, to show courtesy and lower the risk of being skinned, or to stop herself from looking at the death around them, she wasn't sure. "Get it over and done with, then. If you're going to look after me as well as you say you are."  
"I will. I will even wash your fur for you, using the finest of our soaps. Hand feed you. Protect you."  
Something softened in her chest; like a ball of emotions started to unravel. It was hard not to cry. Roxy shoved her hands underneath her arms and hoped that this would all end soon.  
The batarian placed a surprisingly gentle hand on the middle of her back, extended the other to show her where to walk, and offered a weird, unnatural smile. "I am Thax. I hope you enjoy your stay with me."

And Roxy prayed to the Gods that she did, too.


	13. Chapter 13

Adjusting to the crew after a barrage of emotional breakdowns was difficult. Remembering who he was before the heartbreak was even harder. Assuming the role of Commander of the Normandy was a near impossible position to excel at, with Shepard setting the expectation bar, but Garrus managed.  
With the Normandy restocked after their unnecessary trip to Tuchanka, moral was high surrounding the journey to find Gabrielle.

It took them three days to finally enter the Sol system, where Joker coasted it most of the way to preserve fuel. Chances of actually finding their missing soldier were slim; she could be anywhere on Earth, whether it be London, or Hawaii, or even America. Maybe splitting up was an option? Unless reconstruction limited their access to the mainland.  
Garrus was in the lounge on break, a drink in one hand causing his head to spin. A singular, knee-high coffee table sat before him as he rested on a short L-shaped couch, a chessboard set-up and ready to play if anyone dared to challenge a Turian's intellect; but no one seemed to remember the Lounge. Not after the Citadel shore leave had, to a degree, scared most attendees away from any sort of alcohol. 

As a three-fingered hand rose the vial to his plated mouth to down the rest of the toxic beverage, the doors slid open, and Tali tottered in, humming an old tune that hadn't been heard since they were pursuing Saren. Citadel elevator music.  
The soft vocals buzzed through her filter, and made Garrus' mandibles flatten against his face.   
The Quarian then abruptly swung to the right and staggered as best as she could toward the liquor cabinet, an empty vial already placed on the bar, and a hiccup here and there.  
Not a single person had seen Tali since they left Earth.

Standing at startling speed, the Turian managed to ignore the need to topple over as he approached the female and slid onto one of the bar stools, elbows braced against the counter and a smirk making his mandibles flare. "Do you need help finding the alcohol, Tali?"  
Garrus had never seen someone whirl around so quickly in his life. "I was just--- Never you mind that, Barris. My- my head..." Tali slurred, raising a slow hand to try and nurse a possible headache.  
Garrus reached over to pry the vial from her free hand. "I think that's enough for you, I think," he chuckled, then returned all focus to the woman. "Why are you depleting our stock?" He asked, nudging out a stool for her to sit on.  
Tali grabbed the edge of the counter to use it as support to haul herself up onto the chair... and almost tumbled down to the ground. Using her weight to stabilise the chair, a heavy head was placed atop the bench, a groan seeping out of her mask. "It helps fill the void."

A distant nod. He knew what that felt like... but he'd already talked about it too much already. Any more speeches and emotional collapses, and the crew may call in for professional help. "Theres other ways to cope with loss, Tali. And with your immune system... It won't take long for you to get alcohol poisoning."  
A shrug of the shoulders was her only response.  
Garrus placed a hand on her back, rubbing it in a circular motion as a way of soothing her. "We will need you at your best, Tali," he spoke softly, his dual-tones rumbling in his chest. "In the next four hours, we will be at Earth and searching its surface for Shepard... even if we just find a body."  
The Quarian slightly elevated her head, vibrant lilac eyes staring at the straws on the bench against the wall, and then lowered back down. "The Nerdmundy needs to be restoked-revoked... restoic--"  
"Restocked?"  
Tali threw herself back so fast her stool rocked back. "Yes! That's it!"  
A slight chuckle forced it's way through his plated mouth. "Its also called the Normandy, Tali."  
"Yes, Nerdmundy." She chirped, removing herself from his side to retrieve another drink and a straw - this time with water. "That's what I said."

Before the turian could waste more oxygen trying to correct her, the female merely muttered something about sobering up to assist in the search, and to find her in the mess hall if need be.  
Shaking a heavy head, Garrus pivoted back toward the cupboards and sighed. How was he going to continue leading this ship if they didn't find Shepard? The crew were used to her rule; had talked for hours on end to build a rapport, but Garrus... he stuck to calibrating in the Main Battery and barely had the chance to connect with anyone, unless they were on foot and completing a mission.  
Before Garrus could get comfortable on his previous couch, the Normandy's speakers crackled, and delivered a few high pitched white noises. Cringing against the sound, Garrus tried to ignore it, until...

Until a frantic Joker sounded.

"Commander, we have a problem... Listen to this," was all the pilot managed, before static erupted. Then another voice... another dual-toned voice.

"This is a recorded message for all nearby transmitters and radios; Commander Shepard will be facing execution, and once this happens... We, The Council of Midnight, demand to be set free to return to our families and homes. Failure to comply will result in more planet and city damage for you to fix. The choice is yours."

His stomach summersaulted within his abdomen. Shepard was... She was alive. But taken as a prisoner? The amount and severity of the wounds sustained from that final push against the Reapers would have left her in no position to fight back against her captors, which means...  
Anything was likely to happen.  
Garrus nearly vomited.  
"Joker... Joker!! Use the last of our fuel to speed off toward Earth; we have a soldier to save, and an enemy to exterminate!" Garrus barked, throwing himself out of the room to get himself geared up.


	14. Chapter 14

Guns; reloaded. Armour; checked and repaired. Motivation; off the damn charts. Moral was high among the Normandy crew, once word of Shepard's survival circulated, but it battled anxiety within most of their guts for dominance. Batarians, by the sound of the voice that echoed dreadfully over the radio. Of course it had to be them... Personal vendetta or no, those bastards should have had more respect for the one who saved all of their asses.  
It didn't matter, though. They had pissed off the wrong turian.  
Talons dug into crossed forearms as desperate eyes pinned the symbol of the Normandy on the Galaxy map, watching as it slowly neared where Earth was marked. Many people were conversing loudly in the CIC, all trying to talk over everyone else about the situation at hand. It seemed they were all as excited to see Shepard again as he was... but also terrified. Living through an agonizing two weeks of thinking the love of his life was dead, when she was, indeed, alive... There was no way in hell that he was going to lose her to some lowlife batarian scum.

"Commander-- Garrus," Liara's voice cut through the overwhelming noise. "It will be all right. She is alive, and breathing. We will get her back."  
Mandibles flared to reveal needle-like teeth digging into the opposing gums. "They still have her... they have her and no one knows what kind of living environment they have her in," Garrus stated as calmly as his anger would allow.  
Liara sighed, concerned eyes following his gaze. "I know... We can only hope to get there in time."

The Normandy shuddered, and a crackle sounded over the speakers, to which the chatter silenced almost immediately. "Should I activate boosters now? It'll drain our fuel reserve, but we'll get to Earth faster."  
"Activate them, Joker."  
Liara's marked brows lowered. "But, sir--"  
"Now."  
"Activating them now, Commander."  
Hardened plates above his eyes drew together to show determination mixed with urgency. 

Regardless of how much they had already spent on fuel and supplies, he would spend another ten fold if it meant getting Shepard to safety. How were they going to pull this off with the likelihood of their enemy being a terrorist group? Were they going to give her back alive?  
His grip on both forearms tightened, making his features flinch against the sharp pain, which was quickly overridden by his adrenaline. And when the ship began to shake from the power-up of the engines, Garrus whirled to the squadron behind him and barked, "go and grab your gear, fill the shuttles as much as you can. We are going in there with our guns blazing, and we are getting Shepard back."  
A rallying cry was heard, before the crew with battle experience all made their way down to the shuttle bay.


	15. Chapter 15

Chains clanked together that linked to handcuffs around her neck, wrists and ankles; a precaution, the soldiers had stated when applying the many restraints. Prisoners had stared as the four of them exited the cellars and made their way to the upper levels of the organization's headquarters. Wary eyes looked at all of the fake soldiers as they passed by, and took note of the weapons they sported. These people must be very afraid of her.

The Salarian attached to the end of her many chains yanked on them, muttering something about hurrying up, but how could she when she could only make toddler-sized steps? Eyes drifted to the woman beside her who only wore a set of handcuffs due to the threat differences between them, sweaty crimson hair unable to bounce like it usually did. "You wouldn't happen to know where he's taking us, by any chance?" Gabrielle asked as soft as she possibly could and as Roxy could hear.  
Roxy merely made a half-assed and brief hand sign, which read "we will have to wait and see", mainly because she couldn't speak as quiet, even if her life depended on it.

Sapphire eyes rolled at the response and refocused on the Salarian's elongated head in front, pinpointing every weak spot and taking note of it for later use, if she could dislodge those damned handcuffs.  
Akmar was separated from them by another one of the troopers, as to not cause another fight. Roxy had already tried to claw at his face and threatened to rip his spleen out through his back four times already, and they hadn't even been walking for five minutes.  
The elevator doors up ahead opened, and a baton filled with electric currents shoved Shepard from behind, making her stumble onto the platform and glare at the one responsible. All he did was merely scowl in return and press the outside button to send the three of them up. It was probably a good idea to take Akmar up after them. Close quarters with an angry Roxy would likely end with the walls painted in clotted blood.

Shepard was going to die today. She was going to die, and Garrus would never know that she was alive all of this time.   
Fear started clawing at her insides, causing her teeth to tug on her lower lip in anticipation of the fashion of the execution. Knowing just how brutal batarians could be, mixed with many other species that all held a personal grudge against her, made her nervous for what was to come.  
The lift shuddered, and the doors slid open to reveal a nicer interior of the ground floor. It had tiles! Broken ones, but still better than the mulch-like substance they used for flooring in the lower sections of the headquarters.

A tug of the chains signalled the two women to start walking, more humans, batarians and even turians glaring at the both of them. What ever happened between her and these men and women in order for them to be considered outcasts, it was justified. She had no regrets... except being unable to come face to face with her turian lover.  
Shepard had zoned out for the entire walk to the outside, where craters and slightly burnt terrain greeted them, and she rose both hands to shield her eyes from the blinding light of the sun.   
"Where are we going?" Shepard asked bravely with a lifted chin.  
Their Salarian escort spun around and zapped her with its baton. "Keep quiet, you ninnyhammer. Your voice irks me."   
A raven brow lifted higher than the other after the electric shock finally subsided from her limbs.   
"Never been one for chatter, have ya Vex?" Roxy spoke in a familiar way... a daring way. Was she taunting the man?  
They managed to share eye contact, and Roxy gave Shepard a knowing look, roughly inclining her head toward the baton. Oh, no.  
Roxy tossed the mass of her crimson hair over a shoulder with one fell swoop of her head, attracting the Salarian's attention. "What happened to that lady friend of yours? Krian, was it?" The redhead decided it was a good idea to start circling the man, eyes staring into his soul.

Vex whipped the baton towards her, pointing it at her chest with a shaky hand. "Shut your mouth, you heathen..."  
"Bet she left you... Krian sad tears, huh?" She snorted. "Wonder how many of those ugly little shits you two woulda made... too gross to think about."  
As Roxy finished that sentence, Vex snarled and aimed to strike her in the middle of the chest, when she spun around, and delivered a nasty, bone-snapping kick to the side of his jaw, sending him crashing to the ground, nursing the affected area with a hand. Roxy didn't give him enough time to react. She instantly and brutally kicked the baton out of his hand, where it went spin-flying across the ground toward Shepard, and she sat on the small of his back with her two index and middle fingers wrapped around to the front of Vex's head and squishing down into his big eyeballs.   
Blood-curdling screams echoed into the surroundings. Reinforcements must be coming by now.

Roxy stared Gabrielle dead in the eye with a sense of urgency. "Take the zappy stick and fuck off!! Only one chance at everything, yeah?"  
Gabrielle gaped, dipping to swipe the weapon off the ground. Once it came into contact with her skin, every cuff and chain clattered to the terrain at her feet. Shepard went to approach Roxy, but halted at the sign of aggression in her face.   
"Get the fuck outta here, Gabby. This is no place for someone like you--you needa go. Now."  
Shepard opened her mouth, but lost the words when the doors to the building flung open and a dozen, if not more, soldiers poured out in a tidal wave. Gabrielle made a last minute decision to hurl the baton at Roxy, which clipped her on the shoulder and burst open her restraints, and bid a rough farewell, before taking off in a sloppy sprint toward the horizon.  
Many bullets whizzed past her, colliding and clinking off the rocks hidden within the dirt and debris, which made Shepard flinch nearly every single time. She kept going. Even when her breath was like shards of glass in her lungs, a wildfire in her throat... Gabrielle kept running.

And when she looked back, the last she ever saw of Roxy was the redhead fumbling for the baton, taking down four men, before they all swarmed her. This was not the end... Gabrielle would come back for her. She would storm this entire terrorist sanctuary with a small army and kill each and every one of the slimy bastards if they hurt her.  
In the meantime, the ex-Commander spun back around and ran for the hills.


	16. Chapter 16

A piercing headache sprung to life in Shepard's head when her two hands clung to the side of a reaper-destroyed corner shop. She made it... Running for however many hours and near collapsing from dehydration and the heat. At least in the patches of armour she successfully peeled off, the rare gusts of wind felt blissful. But she'd made it to the border of London, cloaked in sweat and dirt from head to toe. Speaking of toes.. She was certain the bottom of her feet were bleeding.   
Construction noises could be heard from just over a hundred meters away, where a group of men and women combined mapped out the layout of what they had to work with in order to restore this chunk of what was ruined.  
Bleeding and possibly infected feet be damned, Gabrielle started running—well, limping with her arms waving about like a madman in and attempt to grab someone’s attention. Shuttles were being used to haul mass amounts of rubble to another spot to try and clear out the area, and to also bring in new pieces of brick, metal and other materials to try and rebuild structures that perished during the invasion.

A cough that rattled her chest and forced a pained groan from her throat filtered into the air, and made her stumble, her seemingly petite frame crashing into a burnt tree trunk, her hips screaming in agony from the impact. Gritting her teeth, determined eyes rose and fixated back onto the construction workers, yearning for at least one of the busy employees to glance her way and noticed her struggle.  
Medics were on the field, either on stand-by in case workers injured themselves, or lugging the deceased away on carts. Maybe they could help her fight any infection from her blisters…

Gabrielle took a step, but after standing idle for so long, the pain erupted from her heels and up her calf, causing her to bite down on her lip to stop the scream from exploding into the air. Even still, the ex-Commander continued her struggled walk, hands latching onto anything for some type of support, until she tried to grab a pile of bricks, and it crumbled beneath her hands, causing her to tumble face-first onto the misshapen ground and cry out in both pain and frustration. Tears stung the back of her eyes.  
Her goal seemed extremely out of reach. The closer she got to help, the harder the universe appeared to fight to keep it away from her.

Hands grabbed at the rocks in front of her face, and tried to attempt a hauling motion, which only tugged on her drained and heavy bicep muscles. The air suddenly became thicker and harder to choke down.  
Snarling fiercely, Gabrielle forced herself into an unsuccessful crawl, rocks painfully prodding and poking at whatever skin showed through the armour. Sweat leaked into her eyes, making it hard to see properly and get a good sense of direction.  
She encountered an obstacle. A tall obstacle. Something that looked like a reaper beam had disintegrated over ten pieces of furniture over one another to form an excessively large mound of chunky ash. Unprofessionally swearing under her jagged breath, she attempted to haul herself up the side of the accumulation of debris, but instead of ascending, she sunk, causing dirt and dust and whatever else to cover a section of her head. A string of coughs sounded as the soldier attempted to withdraw from being suffocated, and dirt fell onto her face. She inhaled, which only prolonged the coughing fit until she threw herself out of the indent she’d made in the mound, and back onto the ground.

At this rate, those humans and turians and krogan or whoever was just over this mountain wouldn’t know that she was here. And that thought alone scared the fuck out of her.  
Shifting two feet underneath her, Shepard dug her bare fingers into the soil-like terrain, and hoisted herself into a wobbly standing position, closing her eyes against the splintering pain in her feet.

In one regrettable movement, Gabrielle was walking, hand cradling the scraped spot on her abdomen as she tried to find a walking style that didn’t hurt so much.

And then she was around the pile, exhausted body swaying from side to side from the amount of effort she put in to fleeing the terrorist organization. Half-lidded eyes unfocused and refocused on those scuttling about, before one body turned to face her general direction.  
“Hey—We've got a survivor!” The man called in dual-tones that reminded her of Garrus.  
And before she could comprehend what was happening, warm, safe hands were on her, and she was laying down on a stretcher, a mask shoved over her face to enable effortless breathing. 

Parts of the world grew black in patches, but Gabrielle managed to look at one particular woman to her right, who was one of four people assisting with moving the soldier towards an infirmary of sorts. Dark orange hair bobbed, and shamrock hues stared back into her own sapphire ones.  
Licking dry, cracked lips beneath the mask, Gabrielle struggled to speak. “Doctor Michel..?”  
A knowing nod was given in return, paired with a warm smile.

Shepard relaxed her head, stared up at the sky above, and couldn’t help but choke out a laugh, that ended in a sob. She was safe. And she was going to receive proper treatment.


	17. Chapter 17

Earth. A planet that hadn’t been visited since their final push against the vanquished reapers. It left a bitter taste in his mouth to think of them.  
Most of the soil was black, the beams of those destructive beings engraving deep spiderweb patterns in the terrain, and Garrus hated to think about what could have possibly happened to all of those men and women and children that once lived here. How many lives had been truly lost to the war? Soldiers weren’t supposed to imagine it out of fear it'd make them soft and hesitant, but…

Today marked the twenty-eighth day that Gabrielle had separated from her crew. That was a long time for anyone to not talk to another soul, and Garrus prayed—actually /prayed/—that she hadn’t gone mad.  
With a three-fingered hand reaching up and holding onto one of the ceiling handles and expression set with determination, Garrus Vakarian stood in the middle section of a shuttle with four others; Wrex, Kaidan, Tali and Grunt. Both the Krogan had insisted on tagging along in the main shuttle, in the hopes that if they came under fire, their brute strength would aid them splendidly… and do well to rough-up any ‘obstacles' in their way.

Wrex smacked the back of Garrus' armour, the metal from the krogan’s gauntlet clinking against his armoured carapace. “See? Now, if you'd have listened in the first place instead of being a stubborn asshole, we would’ve been here sooner,” Wrex smirked, that wide mouth shaping nearly his entire face.  
Nerves wrestled in the turian's gut. “Yeah… sorry about that. I don’t know what came over me. Regardless if Shepard was deceased or not, it should never interfere with the line of duty.”  
Tali attached her chosen guns to their slots on her shoulder blades, tiny hands now fiddling with just one of the extra thermal clips her inventory could hold. “If, or when, we find Shepard,” she begun, glowing and bright eyes flickering behind a visor. “We might have to reenact that horrible party on the Citadel.”  
“You think you can keep up with me this time, lightweight?” Wrex snorted, taunting eyes yearning for the Quarian to bite.

“I’ll drink you under the table, Krogan,” Tali said with certainty.  
Both Wrex and Grunt cackled at the same time Garrus' turian version of the human liver nearly died at the image of how much she would have to drink to still be standing while Wrex lay wasted on the floor.

The shuttle shook, and Liara cleared her throat at the front, hands gripping the controls nervously. Garrus' clear blue eyes turned to peer out of the windshield. Kaidan clicked his tongue at the sight. The ground was all but covered in workers attempting to clear out the wreckage and repair what had been lost, all personnel who became stranded on Earth helping wherever they could. No one could believe that this used to be London.

Garrus’ visor picked up on a familiar name tag, a woman jogging across the field to retrieve a body. A body with no name tag. No information. Just a blank sheet that read ‘UNKNOWN'. Doctor Michel was busy saving lives, or providing closure for those who did make it through the invasion, who unknowingly suffered losses.  
They swung wide, allowing the thrusters to die down, and to give them enough time to find an appropriate landing area for their vehicle. His insides swam as though they were still in low gravity, before their shuttle embraced the Earth, the engines humming until silent. Two on-duty officers, likely positioned to supervise the workers, approached the side of the shuttle and knocked on the door.

Grunt was the one who pulled it open manually, and stared them straight in the eye. If it weren’t for possible years' worth of training, the crew may have just witnessed a duo of human officers shit their pants.  
“This is the Normandy's shuttle, correct?” One of them, a female with blonde hair poking out from beneath her beret-like cap, asked.  
Kaidan stepped forward with a raised brow. “Second human Spectre, ID Kaidan Alenko. That is correct. We are now serving under Garrus Vakarian due to rumours of Commander Gabrielle Shepard's passing. We are here to visit the rogue—”  
Garrus gripped Kaidan on the shoulder and pulled the human behind him, before confronting the inquisitive man and woman. “We are here to… examine the crash site of the Citadel, to confirm that she is deceased,” he lied, not wanting to draw too much attention to their private mission.

Concerned and squinted eyes that showed signs of disbelief studied each and every one of them inside the shuttle, before the woman stepped aside, allowing them room to pass. Garrus squared his shoulders and stepped out of the shuttle first, before helping both Liara and Tali down onto the ground.   
Why did these two have to be at the very border of London? Of all the places soldiers and admirals and generals could be placed… It was just wasting time. Time that they didn’t have to get Shepard out of her chosen fate. The turian spared one more glance toward the field, to where Doctor Michel helped wheel away that blank profile body, before he turned away and lead their small squadron away.

When Joker had radioed in with the threatening message from Shepard's captors, Liara had managed to get their computers up and running again and tracked the signal from the anonymous call, so they roughly knew where to go from the outskirts. All part and parcel from her being the new Shadow Broker, he assumed. It was her job to get information whenever and however she could.  
Trekking through several building skeletons in full gear was not easy, though. It had been some time since they were running around in it, killing those who provoked and attacked first, and their stamina had decreased, their strength mostly relaxed and in sleep mode.

Guilt shredded what ever organ it could get its tiny, phantom hands on when thoughts of how Shepard must’ve been when she awoke on the barren land, alone and cold and more than likely severely injured. How did she make it? Was she healthy? If she did have wounds, were they infected? What kind of environment were those batarian bastards keeping her in? It made his needle-like teeth clench to the point they nearly punctured his gums.  
She more than likely suffered from freezing temperatures during the night, falling asleep uncomfortably and scared on rough surfaces, while he lived the luxury indoors, warm and well-fed.

Whatever they were going to find when they arrived, he was going to make sure they paid heavily for it.


	18. Chapter 18

Death was on it’s way. It was coming, and it was coming hard. Tight metal, too small to fit nearly anything, chafed against porcelain, freckled skin. Matted ruby hair clumped at the back in several places from the amount of times intrusive fingers and hands yanked at it.   
The corridor reeked of stale blood, sweat, rotting flesh and echoed with blood curdling screams and tormenting, yelled orders from guards. Rows of cells, some empty and some filled with captives, were the cause for the stench that had the power to singe nostril hairs. Maybe that was why she could also smell burning.  
Violet eyes flicked to the cell at their upcoming right, and watched as a masked man pressed a searing hot branding iron into what seemed like a shadowed turian. No, it was melting turian flesh that was burning. 

A palm drove into the back of her head to refocus her eyes to the front, which almost made her stagger, but she managed to stay upright. It was hot. Sweat covered her from head to toe. Not that those she once called comrades gave a damn with new orders set in place to execute her privately. To amuse those she betrayed, Tarak had said.

Darkened stairs that appeared out of nowhere were the cause of her nearly tumbling, instead suffering a sprained ankle from landing on it unusually. Teeth bit down on the soft flesh of her lower lip to suppress the pained groan, which she likely would have been hit for; a sign of weakness if one chose to respond with vocal activity. The longer she spent around Shepard, and what had been done to Thax, made her realise just how toxic and corrupt this organisation was.

Roxy struggled down the staircase, with cuffed ankles connected on a twenty-five centimetre long chain. Clawed fingers were attached to her right forearm, digging in harder if she was traveling too slow, which couldn’t be helped when she only had so much chain to work with. The height between each step, as well as the corner of one, was larger than what her feet could reach.

When they entered the lowest basement of their establishment, her turian guard shoved in between her shoulder blades and spurred her into a quicker paced wobble towards what appeared as a bulky metal table in the centre of the lonesome cell that took up the entire lowest floor. Bars boxed them in a foot away from the bottom of the stairs, with a viewing and circling point large enough for two people to fit side-by-side. And soon enough, spectators were joining them, filling the spaces on the outside of the cell.

Roxy bared her teeth in a silent threat, considering a gadget clung to her neck and zapped her whenever she attempted to talk, courtesy of the guard continuously pushing her buttons. Roxy had pissed them off by talking too much about nonsense they didn't understand. Boys, mostly, then intricate detail about a batarian's reproductive organ. The collar was to shut her up.  
“You know your place, filth,” rumbled the dual-toned voice of the asshole turian.   
Roxy merely propped herself up onto the end of the table with a pathetic hop and shuffled backward by moving her hindquarters. 

The barred door swung closed, and a batarian she didn't wish to see stepped into the singular light hanging loosely from the ceiling. With both hands behind his back, the length of his tail coat swished as he started to slowly circle her, his multiple eyes staring into her soul. His bald head inclined toward her, and her collar was removed, to which she attempted to reach up and rub the irritated skin, but her hands halted an inch before they could touch her neck. Her handcuffs and anklets were also connected via chain.   
Roxy just rose her legs, braced her feet on the edge of the table, making it possible for her to soothe the reddened skin around her throat. “So, as I was sayin', fart face,” Roxy started, eyes seeking out her escort, “Thax is a great root. Like... If you want a good bang-bang—” she made a demonstrative thrust of the hips, “—then he's ya go-to.”  
The turian standing within the shadows growled, mandibles peeling away from turian-styled cheeks. “First, it's Percival—”  
“Okay, Perky,” Roxy cut in.  
A sigh of annoyance. “Second, do you have hearing problems, or are you naturally and mentally disabled? Because I have told you, time and time again that I am /not/ interested in hearing about your dirty, mindless—”  
“Enough,” came the deep strum of vocals.  
Percival glared at Roxy for a time, then reluctantly bowed his head.  
Roxy dug dirt out from underneath her chipped nails. “So. What’s your business, then?”

Tarak looked at the ground, taking slow and precise steps, a dangerous expression on his face. “It has been brought to my attention that you are the one responsible for Shepard's escape. Had my men not acted quick enough, you would be scattered to the winds by her side.”  
Roxy swiped her tongue along the front of her upper teeth. “Yeah? She's like... my best friend. Of course I’d want to go where she goes.”  
A slight smile curled the corners of his lips. “Best friends with the enemy? The one working with those that imprisoned us here?” He spat.

“She can't've fucked us up anymore than you did. I mean, you /really/ fucked us up the ass, Tar—”  
“Silence!!”  
The metal cell sung with the vibrations from his voice.  
The redhead’s throat bobbed.

Tarak's flat nostrils whistled when he inhaled. Something wasn’t right with the way he kept glancing back at the two women who had followed him in. They were people she once knew, one of which she looked up to, but now, looking at them with their altered guns and fancy gear, she couldn’t feel anything but hatred and unnerving anxiety.  
Drawing in a breath, violet eyes fixated on the man in charge, and rose a brow to hide the nerves she was feeling. “You gonna keep drooling at the sight of your bed buds who fuck you for their rank, or are you gonna do what you came here to do?” Roxy asked, boredom that wasn’t entirely faked surfacing.   
“You’re rather eager to receive your punishment for treason, Roxy.” Tarak moved closer, taking up a relaxed position directly in front of her.  
Roxy didn't hesitate. She lashed out with her nails, aiming to slice into his throat, but Tarak reacted just in time for her nails to just graze his cheek.

He swore colourfully, a hand cupping the new wound. Fiery eyes glanced at her escort, nodded, and exited the cell to join those watching. A petite asari dressed in white quickly tended to his gash.  
Roxy's wrists were snatched, her knees pushed until they were aligned with the table, and her torso was slammed against the hard metal, winding her. Snarls were let out as a warning as they detached her wrist shackles and re-bound them to the upper corners of the table. Kicks were made, hoping they’d connect with a jaw, a shoulder, anything, but they were detained, as well, ankles strapped tightly down against the bitingly cold surface of her soon-to-be death bed.

Sweat trickled down her forehead, strands of hair plastered to her face, and alert eyes were flying around the room, daring one of those that worked for Tarak to come closer.   
The batarian entered the cell again, a bandage with green stains in the middle of it now stuck to his cheek. Clawed fingers were playing with the fabric of it.   
“My, how unstable you’ve come to be, my dearest Roxy,” he crooned, appearing at her right shoulder, flexing his fingers. “It's such a pity that you need to be disposed of.”  
“Don't need no pity from pig-nosed, villain wannabes that think they’re all good in the head when they really have worms!” Roxy growled, struggling against the holds.  
“Your way of words are... Touching.”

Tarak ran a taloned finger down her dirt and sweat stained tank top, ripping a section of it to reveal the skin beneath, and smirked, eyes lit up with desire. “I wonder how much you can actually tolerate before you give up.” He pressed down into her skin with his index nail, piercing the first few layers of her abdomen. Blood oozed out, budding and dripping down her hip.  
It stung. Roxy hissed out a curse in batarian dialect, wincing against the pain. Why did it hurt so much? The bandage she wore when she first met Shepard was from one of the drunken brawls that occurred every Wednesday night in the main hall, when an angry salarian had lost a bet, shattered a glass and forced it into her tricep... She had suffered worse than this. So why did it hurt as much as it did?  
Roxy turned softer eyes toward her old leader. “Tell me... What did you do to Thax?” Quiet. Tired. Her eyelids yearned to be closed.  
Tarak studied the blood on the tip of his finger and barely looked at her again. “You know, when one commits an act of treason, they are to be punished however I see fit,” he paused, only long enough to gesture towards one of the guards. “So I chose my favourite method of torture.”

An asari hurried over, slipping a device into Tarak's awaiting hand, and offering an apologetic to Roxy. Taaseah. One of the head nurses that nurtured their wounded back to health when things got rough... and also the one who possessed most of the weapons they used. She confiscated every tool that was used to bludgeon heads, shank, slice...  
Tarak ran his fingers along the smooth edges of the clamps, humming out a tune. “Your precious Thax is without a tongue for the vile insults and empty promises of misery and death upon us.”  
Roxy felt tears burn the back of her eyes. “I /will/ fucking kill you!!” She roared, liquid beading at her lower lashes and threatening to spill.  
I wonder how he’ll feel, if a part of you is maimed as well.” The batarian said, unfazed by the shouted remark from his captive, and positioned the clamp on her little finger.

Roxy didn’t have enough time to brace for the pain, before the sound of bone crunching and a piercing, shrill scream nearly deafened everyone confined in the small space.  
“You know,” Tarak started, rounding the table to take a look at her other side. “This wouldn’t have happened if you were loyal. Loyalty is the least we ask of those we take under our wing; whom we feed with our little food, look after like you are our own flesh and blood.. and you choose to betray us. Me. For what? To save some ‘hero' scum for the chance of a better life?” He sneered, moving in until their noses were nearly touching.  
Sweat pooled at her nape, the bottom of her neck, the small of her back, even where her teeth bit down on her lower lip to try and suppress the pained cries that yearned to explode. Roxy was breathing harshly in through her nose, curtly out through her mouth, lethal stare pointed at the batarian. “I regret nothing... only wasting my valuable time on these shit freaks...”

A snort, then another clamp on her right middle finger. The amount of times she used to point that at someone she disagreed with, especially Tarak and those seated on the mock Council, was higher than she could count.   
Another crunch, and searing pain, leaving her arching her back towards the light and screaming into the void, ending on a shaken sob.  
Tarak clicked his tongue, and before giving a hint of his next move, drove his elbow directly down into Roxy's ribs. Hand clenched around the bone snapping device, he decided to use it as a melee weapon, and whacked her shins.

“F-Fucking piss basket!!” Roxy seethed, her good fingers on her left hand digging into table. Tears were now cascading down her cheeks, leaving clean trails in the dirt-collected sweat. The room was spinning, her head throbbing. She could see red around the edges of her vision. Saliva started seeping out the corner of her mouth.  
“You ruined your own life by betraying us! Birajuujuu!” Tarak sneered, gesturing for another tool to be given to him.  
Taaseah flinched and nervously slipped forward, passed him something, and sunk back into the shadows.  
Tarak reached to grab at her hair, but Roxy lifted her head up and bit down into the underside of his wrist until his discoloured blood poured into her mouth. He screeched, and delivered a punch that made her see stars to her temple, and spat on her face once his wrist was free from her teeth. Guards now approached from the corners of the cell, held her head down by her forehead, and secured a thick leather strap down onto her head to keep it in place.

Roxy was seething through her teeth, growling and jerking her body around to try and loosen the holds, but nothing worked.  
“It was nice knowing you... For what little it gained me,” was all Tarak said.  
Roxy could only cry as the batarian raised a meat-cleaver above his head and swung down, the shadow of the blade aligned with her neck.


	19. Chapter 19

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a heads up!!
> 
> This chapter has a little gore, a bit more swearing, and will confuse most if you have paid attention. All will be explained later. Thanks for reading this far!!

When the terrorists had radioed in to the Normandy on Shepard's execution, Garrus was expecting a towering structure full of glass window panes that stretched from floor to ceiling, guards patrolling the outside, spiked fences, aerial vehicles... Not a single building that looked smaller than the CIC.  
Maybe Liara's tracking had been faulty. The reapers had just pillaged what they could of earth, after all, so maybe it affected the lines.  
“Garrus, I know what you are thinking,” Liara called from behind, her petite frame wedged between the two krogan, “I have linked the signal to our GPS, and this... This is the place.”  
Garrus' facial features were set in confusion. “Why would they even dare to speak the way they did to us if their base looks like that?”  
Wrex shoved past him. “Don’t know, don’t care. Our priority is Shepard and that’s who I’m gonna go get.” He stomped on ahead.  
Grunt, Kaidan and Liara followed after the brute, guns cocked and ready to fire at the first thing that moved.

Tali approached Garrus' right, bright eyes pinning the building with the exact amount of wariness that Garrus felt in his core. “I know how you are feeling, Commander. You want this to be the truth. You want to rescue Shepard,” she murmured, then slowly turned to face him, but he continued looking at the front double metallic doors. “It was hard for me to lose my father... If I had a slight hint that he was still alive, I wouldn’t care what the facility looked like... I would charge in and break down any wall I had to, so I could be with my father again.”  
Tali's words perfectly explained what he wanted to do, but walls wouldn’t be the only thing he’d be breaking. Bones, skulls, people... He would kill them. If not only for threatening to execute Shepard, then for being a part of another organisation that was built with the intention to cause misery, distress and heartbreak.  
The quarian pet his armoured shoulder, stayed with him for a few more seconds, before she jogged to catch up with the rest of the crew.  
This had to be true. Shepard was on the inside of that pitiful excuse of a headquarters, and it was his job to raid through it until she was tucked safely within his hold.

A finger clicked to the ear piece. “Joker. Lock in on my position; we found it,” was all he said, before he withdrew his gun from his back and marched on forward, a handful of shuttles now landing behind them for backup.

 

Wrex was at the door, running a large hand across the surface of it, while Tali started checking for any technical traps that’d ignite if forced entry was sensed from the outside.  
“Even the doors are as shoddy as the building,” Wrex muttered in disgust, taking a step back to analyze the entire stretch of the entry way. “I could barge right through these and I wouldn’t have a scratch on me.”  
Break down the door and have a badass entry that would likely scare the living fuck out of every piece of shit inside, or a planned incision from one of Tali's many tools to sneak in and skilfully assassinate everyone inside?

“Break it down. I want everyone at the defensive so they know for future reference to never mess with Shepard's assembled crew... if any live to tell the tale,” Garrus ordered.  
The grin that shaped most of Wrex and Grunt's faces would have sent him running in the other direction if they were directed at him.  
Surely enough, the brutes readied up their shoulders and lunged, peeling the cheap-metal of the doors away to make it seem like an enlarged bullet hole.   
“I want every single one of the leaders on their knees in front of me!” He roared, receiving a collective cry in response from his crew as they all charged into the building.

Gunfire was heard before the screams erupted. A turian's head was beneath Wrex's foot, his gun pointing at its head. “You a leader?” An attempted shake of the head from his captor. “You’re no use, then,” and he shot.  
Liara wove into the shadows provided by the stone pillars working to support the ceiling—to give her enough time to power up her biotics, perhaps.  
Tali had instantly taken control of two of the drones at the other end of the room and had them turn on their comrades.  
Grunt was busy shoulder barging men and women who struggled to find their guns, cackling maliciously.  
There was something odd about this small room; barely any soldiers, confining space, an odd looking metal gate leading into a box at the end of the hall... An elevator?   
Kaidan was beside Garrus—for protection or reassurance, he didn't know. “Go get her, Garrus,” he said, before heading in to the largely one sided battle.

He could do this. By the way these sorry excuse for soldiers weren’t even equipped in case of incoming attacks, he had no worry in the world that this was just a swoop in, retrieve the Commander, waltz on out type of mission.  
Darting forward while clutching the gun in his hands, he threw his back into one of the pillars as bullets whizzed past to where he was standing just moments before. Crystalline hues poked out around the corner to try and locate the target, when his visor locked onto a Salarian with a sniper closest to the elevator. Easy.  
Garrus whirled around to the other side of the pillar, whipped out his M-96 Mattock and unloaded his clip upon unfortunate souls who were not expecting him. Their bodies jerked with the rapid fire, before their shields disconnected and sent them crashing to the floor.   
He used that as his opportunity to zig-zag between the pillars and shoulder barge one of the once-hidden asari. “Cover me!” He bellowed.  
Gunfire erupted again, providing as the necessary distraction for him to switch to his Black Widow, collapse onto his stomach, and slip into position with the barrel poking out just beside the pillar.

A shot went off, and Garrus barely managed to duck his head behind the coverage to avoid the bullet embedding into his brain, before he realigned his eye to the scope for the reload process, took one look at the salarian, and didn't hesitate to pull the trigger.  
Her body crumpled to the ground in a thud that was mostly drowned out due to his crew's raging fight.  
Garrus shoved himself to his feet, re-equipping the sniper to its destined slot and swapping it back for the assault rifle. This was his chance.

Without wasting any of the precious time he’d acquired, Garrus shot off, dashing for the gate that could possibly take him to the rest of the facility, and shoved his enclosed fist against the sensor to signal the lift.  
Before he could touch the gate, two strong arms wrapped around him from behind, attempting to slide within his armoured carapace to strangle him, and Garrus struggled to stand upright from the new applied weight. He stumbled a few paces back, hands trying to reach around to dislodge the attacker... When all he heard was thundering footsteps, a surprised shriek, and a sound that would haunt his dreams for the next few years.  
Garrus turned to see Wrex behind him, hand outstretched between them, holding onto what was left of the head of the dangling, lifeless body attached to it. Blood and flesh and whatever else the gunk was ran down the krogan’s fingers and wrist. A malicious grin shaped what he could see of the brute beneath his helmet.   
“A life for a life, right?” He growled.  
Garrus pat him on the shoulder, showing off his own smirk, offered his abrupt thanks before throwing himself into the elevator. The last thing he saw of that floor was Wrex delivering a war cry as he charged back off into battle, and then he was met with a wall.   
Anxiety attacked his gut with phantom hands, tugging his organs all over the place as he dove deeper into the stronghold. Were there going to be more assholes waiting on the second floor?   
Shit. He didn't think about this. He had no backup with him. If they all looked at him and took aim... He would be dead before he even got the chance to look at his love.  
Shit, shit, shit.

The lift jolted to a halt, and the gates shrieked open behind him. There was no going back now.  
He spun around, gun lifting in his embrace. “All right, I want everyone on the ground with their hands behind their head!”  
...  
Good one, Garrus. That was inconspicuous.   
The room was full of what looked like cages against every wall, triple bunk beds within them with some occupied and some messily made, with a single path leading straight down the middle of the cages.  
Dozens upon dozens of eyes all locked on to him, unreadable due to the fact they all looked like angry assholes anyway.  
A batarian swung himself out from one of the bedding arrangements and approached him, multiple eyes scanning his turian frame from top to bottom, until they were standing practically nose-to-nose with one another.

It felt like a lifetime waiting for any sort of response.  
Then the room erupted into an uproar of laughter, some even keeling over from the force detonating within their core.  
The batarian before him was chortling, and smacked him on the shoulder. “You’re a funny nut, you are!!” He then tucked him under his arm and walked him closer to the cages. “Melcas is back, boys!!”  
The soldiers cheered, throwing their enclosed fists into the air—as a form of salute, he guessed.  
All Garrus could do at this bizarre scene was nervously chuckle.  
The batarian at his side looked him up and down again. “You got some more fancy gear than what you left with! Tarak will be pleased with your weapons. What did you rummage through to find that?”   
“Ah... Alliance shuttle landed uncomfortably close to our location, so I had to investigate. Turns out they were no match for my fists!” Garrus lied, ending it on a weak, crewmate-like punch to the man's left pectoral. It felt almost abnormal to say things like that, given how long he worked with the Alliance.

The batarian flashed his pointed teeth in a wicked grin as he roughly jerked Garrus around in a peculiar hug. “Atta boy! Show them mongrels who’s boss!”  
A returning chant as fists were banged on the metal bars sounded from around them.   
Everyone here must be fairly close, then, if they literally yelled in agreeance to everything anyone said.  
Garrus awkwardly peeled the man off of him and took a step away. “I need to go, uh, find Tarak and show him my findings. I’ll be back in a few minutes,” he stated, walking back to the elevator.  
“All right. Gnoll and Jekas want to play a round of ‘whose stomach can take the most ryncol’, so I expect you to be back ASAP!” The stranger called out, the smile still planted on his face. “And I loved the entrance by the way! Nearly had me convinced you were here to kill us.”  
Garrus offered one last laugh, waved a stiff goodbye, and hopped onto the elevator that took him down a level.

He loosed a taut breath. “How is the top floor?” Garrus asked through his helmet, checking the clips of his guns and reloading.  
“We have everything under control here, Commander,” Kaidan answered, “as long as you can keep the elevator busy, we aren't in any danger.”  
Both weapons slid into their assigned slots at his back, determinate glare metaphorically burning a hole through the wall in front. “I am going deeper. Everyone on the floor beneath you seems to be convinced I’m a member of this group... So I managed to get away. I wont be around the elevator to keep it occupied, so unless one of you can keep hitting the sensor once I’m off, I can’t help you.”  
“Roger that.”

Again, the lift shuddered as it stopped, the gates sliding open with ease this time and revealing a long, dark hallway with several doors on either side reaching down until his eyes couldn't recognize what was at the end of it. Carefully, he stepped out into the hall and started off at a slow but confident pace, glancing through each door as he passed. Nothing interesting in the least.  
As he continued, darkened cobblestone stairs at the end of the hallway nearly had him tumbling down. What on Earth was down there?  
Garrus shot a glance behind him, and only had enough time to notice the shine of the light glinting off another set of armour, before he ducked into one of the side rooms. An empty office, by the appearance. A muffled shout was heard through the walls, followed by hurried footsteps as the pursuer came bounding down the stretch of wooden floorboards.   
Garrus attempted to bamboozle them by hiding directly behind the door, and once he heard them just outside, he gripped the handle and shoved it into them, which earned him a surprised gasp in return. He didn't wait for them to recover. Garrus threw himself around the door, grabbed them by their armoured collar, dragged them into the room and threw the body to the floor.

The door clicked shut as the turian slowly turned around to stare at the scurrying human, panic and bewilderment plastered on his uncovered face. The blonde attempted to grab whatever was closest to him to use as a weapon; the table leg, the lamp connected to the power outlet to a wall, a book on the bottom of the shelving unit... He was powerless.  
Garrus, fueled by rage from the announcement of their leader, delivered a kick to the side of the human's head, sending him flying onto his stomach in a stunned state. Without missing a step, Garrus was straddling his back, left hand capturing the man's wrists and pinning them beneath where he squatted, while his right hand snatched the M-96 Mattock and planted the barrel against the blonde's sweaty temple. “Tell me where she is, or your brains will litter the floor.”  
Panicked whimpers escaped the man's throat. “W-W-Where w-who is?”  
“Don’t act dumb. You have a gun against your head, so you better start talking. A new prisoner that was sentenced for execution today. Where is she?!” He roared, applying more pressure to his head.  
The blonde let out a shaky sob and sealed his eyes shut tight. “O-Oh! Shepard?? Yeah, she is still down t-there!” He chirped.  
Garrus felt his strength falter. Right below was where his heart was. Below him was the answer to his heartache and the end to his countless nights spent awake, cradling that one photo frame to his chest and weeping until there was nothing left.  
The turian shoved himself off his temporary prisoner and made to turn toward the door. “Fuck it,” was all he said, pivoting by his hip, shooting the man in the thigh, and then proceeding to exit.  
The shot would inevitably attract unwanted attention, so this had to be a quick extraction and a fight on the way out.

He wasted no time in darting down the cold staircase, visor only providing a piss-poor excuse for light at a short range. He could only see the next two steps, but it was enough.  
He hit the landing harshly, staggering a step, before he straightened and jogged through the endless stretch of cells. Rows, and rows, and rows of cells that all reeked of excrement, urine, and unwashed bodies.  
On his way through, his leg snared on an extended hand, which the turian almost instinctively kicked off, but once he saw the being attached to it... A batarian. With desperation showing in his eyes. Blood cascaded down and stained his chin as inaudible noises croaked out of his throat. He couldn't see a tongue—  
Garrus had to swallow the bile that rose up the chute of his throat. “What is it? I don't have time to stand around. I’m looking for someone.”  
The batarian beckoned Garrus closer with his head, and once Garrus dared to get near the cell, the prisoner pointed to something almost completely shrouded in darkness in the corner. A trapdoor, by the looks of it.  
Garrus' crystalline hues flicked to the batarians face. “What's down there?”  
A stupid thing to ask, considering he wouldn’t get a vocal response, so he shook his head, shuffled to the gate and shot a hole through the lock. Sure enough, the door swung open, clinking against the cell next to it, and many of the inmates were all murmuring, hoping to receive the same treatment.  
The tongueless man didn’t move, and managed to reveal cuffs that chained him to the icy cold bars. But he still urged Garrus to approach the trapdoor.  
A few cautious steps had the turian towering over it, and as he dipped to his knees to try and open it, a hand from beneath shoved it open with such force that it snapped against the ground.  
Garrus was instantly at the defensive, finger hesitating on the trigger of his Mattock, and could only stare in confusion as yet another damned batarian rose from the hidden room.  
He was... taller than the rest. Shared Garrus' height and strong stance. Nothing but anger and hatred and hurt shone in his multiple eyes.

“I knew this was a waste of time. Do what you want now, you’re free, but don't hold me here any longer,” Garrus said as calmly as his raging nerves would allow.  
The batarian in front raised what could be passed as an eyebrow. “You are here for Shepard, correct?”  
Garrus balked. “If you have information, it’s more use to me than it is to you.”  
The man sidestepped the turian and exited the cell. “The woman you are searching for is no longer here, but I can help you find her.”  
“Why should I trust a batarian? All you caused was grief and violence when it came to Shepard!”  
“I was not a part of those that directly challenged you Alliance folk, so please do not put me in the same category.”  
Garrus was now severely confused. 

A choir of hurried footsteps sounded from the staircase, and the batarian shot a fiery glance toward where they would appear at any second, before looking back at him. “Are you going to follow me or not? I know this place like the back of my hand.”  
There was no choice. They were running out of time.   
Garrus grit his needle-like teeth and followed the stranger out into the hall. “Where the hell are we going if Shepard isn't here?”  
“There is someone I wish to retrieve first. I can only do it with your fire power at my back. Can I borrow one of those guns?”  
Garrus snorted. “And risk a bullet in my back? Not a chance.”  
“Suit yourself,” he said as he abruptly started speed-walking down another set of stairs.  
“What do I call you if I’m supposed to be working with you? You know, if we get separated.”  
The batarian spared a glance over a shoulder. “You may call me Thax.”  
Thax. Garrus would remember that name. The name of the potential batarian that helped him gain that missing piece of him back.

A door greeted them at the bottom of the stairs, and Thax attempted to peep through the keyhole. Screams erupted from the other side, which had the man seething and balling his hands into fists.  
“Here,” Garrus whispered, disconnecting the Mattock and tossing it toward his temporary squad mate, “I don’t know what we are dealing with, so it’s best if we go in prepared.”  
Thax caught the gun without even looking, and straightened his spine. “I am going to open the door. Be ready with your Widow, because there is a man... A man like me on the other side who needs one of those bullets through his skull.”  
Garrus immediately retrieved the sniper, the gun reconstructing itself to its natural state. Bracing it against his shoulder, the turian nodded his head to signal that he was ready.  
Thax cranked open the door, let the gravity pull the weight of it to reveal the interior, and Garrus was already scanning the shocked faces of those inside.  
Everything seemed to slow down, but his breaths and heartbeat were still going the same speed. Eyes latched onto a batarian, whom had an arm erected with a meat cleaver tucked within his tight grasp. “Bingo,” he muttered, and pulled the trigger. The bullet ricocheted off the meat cleaver—where he was aiming for—and managed to embed itself into one of the turians hiding in the shadowed corners of the centre cage.

Shouted commands spread throughout the chamber, but Thax was already in there, unleashing the thermal clip into those who hadn’t even reached for their weapons yet. And when the bystanders, the medics and the senators, all scurried out of the room, Garrus entered and spotted the crimson-haired woman on the torture table in the dead middle of the room. Thax took up aim on the batarian that Garrus intentionally missed.

Breaking his attention away from the suffering and possibly inconsolable woman, Garrus latched onto Thax's arm and growled, “leave him. He has answers to my questions,” and stormed into the cell.  
Thax snarled, gun still pointing toward the leader as he eased in and shut the gate behind him.  
Garrus stormed up to Tarak, whom attempted to throw a weak left-hook, but the turian palmed it off and delivered a deadly elbow to the jaw. When Tarak's body went keeling over, Garrus grabbed the back of his cloak, spun him to face the cell, placed a hand to the back of his head and smooshed his face against the bars. “You better start talking, or I swear to whatever God is listening that I will string you up by your intestines while you are still alive and let my friend, here, unleash his rage.”


	20. Chapter 20

Faces. Voices.  
All a distant, fuzzy memory that quickly faded into nothing as the sedatives took over and dragged her into darkness. Narrow hallways with lights overhead was one of the more prominent memories that she could recall. Then there were hands—way too many hands, some feminine, some masculine, hauling, tugging… helping.

Subtle pain registered to some parts of her whenever she came to, only long enough to eat a meal, pretend to understand the distorted and slowed voices of the doctors around, before she slipped back into that safe comfort of sleep that she hadn’t felt for weeks.   
A cannula hanging out her right arm with an oxygen assist tank clinging to her nostrils, Gabrielle shifted as the curtains to her rooms lifted, the Earthly Sun not hesitating to roll in through the window and lick its warmth up her cheek, heating all the way up to her hairline. 

She winced when she stirred, a reflex sending her left hand up to try and block the rays, her bruised fingers twitching as they warmed. Where was she? Last she remembered, she ate a pile of dirt when trying to call for help. They must have found her and brought her to safety.  
Shepard fought for dominance with the tears that stung the back of her eyes. She was safe. Broken, bruised, distraught, but safe.

Distraught…  
She jerked, eyes widening as they stared at the ceiling as if it held the answers she sought after. What in the hell happened to Roxy? Was she still alive? Why would she do that? Shepard would have found a way out of their execution, but to outright resist so close to the front doors of their headquarters? Such a brash, hopeful child.  
She would bring Roxy back from the dead and kill her again if she had to.

A buzzer sounded, and the doors to her rooms slid open in all directions, revealing the clean, exhausted face of a familiar woman, her brown hair held out of her face by a few pins above her ears. A datapad in a gloved hand, Doctor Chloe Michel swiftly entered, squinted eyes staring at whatever confused her on the information tablet.  
Shepard cleared her throat, and Michel jumped, clutching the datapad to her chest as her heart leapt out of it. “C-Commander Shepard!” She gasped, seemingly calming down from her fright. “I cannot belie—you are awake!”  
A finger sought out the bed controls and lifted the upper half of the bed so she could sit up. Wincing at the wounds along her body as they shifted after so long of staying still, the raven-haired woman offered a friendly smile. “I wish I wasn’t. I have a lot of things on my mind that have just brought me back to this shitty reality.”

Michel frowned, discarding the datapad on the side table that held a valuable vase, which sported several flowers. The scents blended pleasantly. “Commander, the only thing your mind should be concerned about is yourself,” she paused, taking a seat atop the spare side of the mattress. “How long were you out there? What happened?”  
Raven brows crinkled the skin between them as she chewed on her lip. Sapphire eyes lowered, gazing at the bra she wore, as well as the blanket covering what she assumed was bare skin from the waist down. She moved her right leg to the side, her brain finally registering a slight hint of fabric beneath the blanket. Underwear, perhaps? Or had they given her thin-material shorts?  
Shepard sunk her head back into the pillow and loosed a breath. “I don't know where to begin. I was given a choice regarding the reapers and their fate… And I was shooting at a large piece of machinery,” fingers curled into the gun-holding position atop her lap, her senses almost completely remembering the feel of the grip within her hand. “I just—I don’t know what to tell you, Doctor Michel. I woke up on the ground, got escorted to some insignificant terrorist organisation who wanted my head… That woman responsible for my survival risked her life to let me run free. And now I’m here.”

Shepard could see the pure confusion on Michel's face as her brain tried to detangle the mystery that was the Commander's story. “I—I guess it is a good thing we found you when we did, then,” she started, picking up the datapad and rising to her feet, “you were malnourished. Your lips were cracked and dry from no water from roughly about two days, food absent within your organs… for only God knows how long.” Michel straightened out the creases on her uniform and tucked the datapad into an overly large pocket. “It's a miracle you are alive, but all I can say is… it's good to have you back.”

The smile on the doctors face made her emotions go haywire. A woman who hardly knew anything about Shepard, who she was as a person instead of what the vids revealed, was glad. How happy would her crew be to find out that she was alive and not buried under all the debris from that awful decision? And Garrus… Gods, she hoped he hadn’t gone off the rails.  
“How long until I can be discharged? I need to return to my crew,” Shepard asked, eyeing the Doctor who became immensely interested in whatever she was reading on the far wall of the room.  
Green eyes flicked to her; studying, surveying. “You think you are ready to leave? Right now? Shepard, we have only had you for three days.”  
Three whole days. That couldn’t be right. What were they giving her in order to keep her knocked out? 

Shepard shook her head to dismiss that thought. “While I’m grateful for you and the rest of your team for patching me up, I can’t be away any longer. They need—”  
“I have already dispatched a message to your Normandy to inform them of the situation. In no time, they should be here to collect you, but only if you are ready physically to re-enter the outside world,” Michel cut in, a faint hint of a smile still lingering in her eyes.  
A pang of anxiety punched through her. How long would it take them to arrive? Oh, gods. Oh gods, oh gods, oh gods. She could already envision the reuniting scene in her head, the memorable moment playing out before her on the impeccably white opposite wall; cheers, happy tears, the crowd of her crew lifting her up in appraisal… Garrus. His hands. His breathless responses.

Tears beaded at her lower lashes, but she blinked them away before they could be noticed. “Thanks for that.”  
Doctor Michel merely dipped her head in understanding, and dismissed herself, leaving the Commander to drown in her everlasting thoughts and wonders.


End file.
